You Moon stand high above;
Bright as a halo
White as white linen
Round as a perfect circle.
The distance lends you majesty,
You’d see in a king on his seat.
I survey the stars gaping at you.
I suspect if you are happy.
I suspect you are lonely.
Oh the Light of the Night!
What you’d give to come down
To leave all that beauty and majesty!
Alas! The distance betrays you!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem