For as The Moon looks down upon our weary race, The Sentry who's loyalty is by his Vigilance kept. Has seen every triumph, folly and woeful disgrace, In the Glacial light that is dutifully swept. And as the Centuries turn and onward flow, Our features are Stained with times moving pace. But by his self the evidence does show, An ageless face that of Empyrean grace. Such an reticent child of extreme occasional joy, A presence from a much turbulent birth. The Heavens and more does his worth employ, And a serene companion to an unstable Earth. Bathed in Pale light the Countryside now lies, In quiet repose from Shire to Sea. Is this how The Creator really foresaw our lives, To live in such peace as it was once deemed to be. So; What of The Moon As he lays his bold sight, On Man's struggle to be, to strive for, to exist. Every War that is played in the name of what's right, In the name of what's right could we ever desist? So please patient Moon that is now watching down, Forgive all our Boisterous wrongful days. For there it is shown by your pale Vigil found, To us all there is Pity within your irradiant soft gaze.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem