He is the lighthouse keeper,
Infinite nights; slumber jolt,
Waves melodine as stars dance,
And praise the mans midnight halt.
Birds creek from the moorside,
Sprinkles mists the windows of
His fogged passion breath. As
He vigils for a vestige seatrack
His heart can go beyond the sea,
But his eyes maybe one mile,
Repeated nights, only him and
And the gloomy seaside smile.
The casanova wingbird detests
The delirium sway of his way,
As his female mates zeal the
Unflying and still man from the bay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A really great poem, like it, a great write.