It is night, but yet...
Something seems strange.
The moon remains unseen,
Hidden by his blanket of black,
Never once peeking out.
But if one searches the sky,
A dark hole can be found
In his starry quilt.
Even though he is hidden,
He can still be seen.
He needs his rest today.
Tomorrow, he must return,
Shining with borrowed light
From the sun's beautiful face.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem