The Owl Poem by Angiuli Aguiar
The Owl
An owl flew without wings;
No light covered the wide winds.
A lover living of holy things
Played a lute without strings.
Branches bent for sacraments,
Laughing loud with high contents.
Moon and mist remade amends;
The lover plucked on rosy scents.
The winding wind waned at night;
The moon moaned in roseate light.
Black became a brittle bright;
The owl flew on the lover's flight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/23/2024 5:29:28 AM # 1.0.0.1119
