Perhaps the nightingale
that in our garden sings
As dusk wears faintly
And the stars one by one
Usurp the darkening dome of heaven
Perhaps the nightingale
Is a black beauty queen of the south
That still no scepter holds
Save her transparent veils
That fly with night
As she
Dances over the night-floor.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem