Full of the evening, peace sits upon the moon, looking for
a place to alight.
Tantalizing earth with it's far away beauty, filling eyes
of people with a new brand birth.
Falling along the wayside, covered with the dirt of age,
moonbeams lie buried in the earth.
Agony here, upon the ground, has turned the life of the
moon to naught but moondust.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem