The gradual light of morning
Slowly dims the bright round moon
The soft gray clouds
Like blankets chilling
Rolling in, a happy tune
Yet there the moon, still is shining
Pinned against the blue-gray sky
And then it turns
It’ gleaming eyes here
Where the clouds are passing by
Glorious moon! Clouds are coming!
Obscuring the view of yours
Oh! The beauty!
The clouds try covering
Yet your glory shines out more
Up comes the sun, hiding your glow
As it says in ancient lore
Then in the night
When the sun is gone
You’ll shine brighter than before
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Gray clouds! With the muse of Life. Nice work.