My sleeping is weird and windy, deep and dramatic,
For sudden seizures overtake me in sincere smiling.
My sleeping of the heart and the mind is of worlds,
Words shape the face of my life and existence.
The moon starts to fade, the sun begins to rise,
Just like my heart that conjures a love thought so gracious.
It is for my beloved that I sing according to rules, laws;
It is for the earthy, early splendours that the morning is sweet.
A song of the nightingale is overheard, a rude thought has
Been experienced by the soul that stagnates and sides
With godly pathways, a candle burns brightly to save you.
My nighttime needs nothing to result in a gesture of friendship,
Many nights are these nights, but the night is a sure folly
But not a foe as might be expected.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem