Very deep in the dark moonlit night
I still hear the sound of doves
where the whole night they coo, whisper and laugh;
I see the yellow moon glowing as a sickle
where it hangs high above the horizon,
there are thunderbolts lashing thundering,
in blinding flashes of blue-white light
with the doves scattering scared over the roof
when the storm walks nearer through the tree branches.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem