Silent
Silent
Fields and roads
that wind straight
and round
dusty
dust of stars
of the white stars
in the moon's light
of the owl calls
nightingales
amorous
singing
and then
sudden
in the not so distant
Bourne
a Figure of Night walks
walks so swift
whistling
whistling
whistler of a magic night of spells!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem