Tonight in the fragrant air
The New Moon is a cradle
Hanging from the Evening Star.
Latin music on the car radio,
Dark forest on all sides-
As Beauty, God, that's how
You drive us mad!
Around a curve,
The cradle of the New Moon
Is almost touching the ground.
If I keep driving
Maybe I can climb
Onto that swing,
And like her
Become full,
Then quietly
Disappear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I felt as if I were right there with you Max. An excellent poem.