The quarter moon has arrived on seaside,
The carved bay being limited by sandline
Is quite pleased with saline touch
And is watched carelessly by drowsy moon.
The breathing silence of distant forest,
Fills happy for not being assailed by wavy crest, then
On its endless posture to dry field
Fashions noisy rides on sea air back endearing coastal care.
The land is on sleep, an unfathomable sleep.
No promises appear near nor any dashing guts
To awake these dead sailors,
Save marching ignorance and abyss.
The sea is alive, quite alive even in night!
Filtering the staple ignorance on spare sands, then
Talking with night air about a distant holy light
Rushes back to sleepy vault.
The quarter moon on bay watch,
Accompanied by faint moon beams kissing the rocks,
Leaving the vast lighted land to blind mortals
Who in ever blind wants fall like petals, not immortals.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem