Last week of summer
The nights still balmy
So I crossed the highway
To climb the grassy hill
And sit under Casseiopia-
Cloud-fragments drifting across a full moon-
Not much happened in that hour
Except the drone of a distant plane
And the romance of two owls
In the dark pines behind me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautfil imagery you portrayed here. Enjoyed the read.