The moon feels my lonliness tonight,
She reveals herself,
Hermetically holds me,
Embraces a frigid nightfall.
The moon is yellow,
Pale as a geriatric soul,
Tacit as an unborn cocoon,
Yet vibrant as a rippled sun.
The moon turns white,
So do I,
As my body drifts ashore,
Peacefully Into the vast unknown.
We are one,
The moon and I,
Woven into the sky,
Governors of the stars.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem