The nightingale is mute
And does not sing:
The wind warbleth not
To the green leaves
This stillness of the night.
The nightingale is mute
A rat the silence breaks
Rustling and running
Leaves rise and fall
Upturned by the rat feet.
And the wan moon
Looks down indifferent:
For the nightingale is mute
And does not sing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem