Moonlight shines on his distant cousin; She.
And though the former, outshines the latter,
In beauty, the triumphant better be,
She, She, She, She, who I am after.
She, who is fairer than all that is fair,
Beauty that shines in the darkest of nights,
Nights of wonder, night's cold breeze, fog and air.
And it's presence and wonder, makes no plight.
But, trembling, shaking, wavering and weak,
The sight of disgrace and eternal shame,
And in that moment, the future seemed bleak.
Broken, torn, with only herself to blame.
Here and there, beauty has been ripped apart.
Pieces scattered; found never to restart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem