Night has reeled back
shadows cast
by day's bright eye,
has smoothed the world
to quiet symmetry
that teases memory
with a sudden shape
a sense of having been,
of seeing this before
a maybe in the mind
confused by folds
of dark that pool
across the landscape.
Cool moonlight sweeps
a pallid brush across
the highlights of the scene
a gleam that shades
the unrelenting dark
to grey where ghosts,
where bogeymen take shape
to fill the contours of the land,
the mind alight from too much
coffee in the blood.
Rest in the night and let
the mares be dreams
of candyfloss, of cobweb
lace, of chargrilled steaks
and fish that did not get away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem