The Violin Of Poetic Rhythm Poem by Reva Kern

Under the moonlight in the coolness of the valley
Fine young lads dark-haired and blond
To the sound of the oboe
Or of the violin
Dance to the poetic rhythm

The moor is drowned in sweet scents
Stirring up joy by the fire of coal
Go cheerfully, Go by leaps
Dance to the poetic rhythm

On an oak bench they are there,
The old ones
They follow you with tears in their eyes
When you pass them joyfully
Dance to the poetic rhythm

Go cheerfully!That silver orb
Passes on your foreheads
Its changing reflection
Well before the night at Saint Jean
Dance to the poetic rhythm