Moon is shy; but she is
Everybody's favourite;
The lover's; the lovelorn's.
Treading dates or acorns;
At lory's or loon's site.
Whose is mine when all heads
Frangipani enring?
Of the charged air, oh Lord
The intake to record!
That smoulders this evening.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem