Come and see the mystic moon light
Don't let morning mist mask your sight
It is a manifestation of your inner plight
That invites me to the island's ritual rite
But the tide of this row is running low -
out of the mystic might
A jungle in the territory left behind
Burning away in the hills that wind
To a fertile crescent and a barren kind
And blue lagoons with ties that bind
But the streams have no place to flow -
out of the mystic mind
When a Leyak god rears its ugly head
And its counterparts bring further dread
The much and many linked by an unseen thread
Along a waking volcano with lava red
Evacuations row as it's about to blow -
out of the mystic said
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem