Closer and closer, times and again
the gentle moon tries to pull
the black, and
star-sprinkled tresses
of the night, for a final kiss
above the dormant crest of the trees
caressing the clear surfaces
of the enchanting rivers that spring
at its feet...
The fresh breath of an autumn gale
carries their wine-like scent
made of dried leaves,
wild rose petals,
jasmine, sweet honeysuckle and pine
which spreads across the world
embracing it like a long-lost
friend, or lover of yore,
infusing the roots with its
muffled words and poetry
blending in with the crickets'
chirping in the stillness
of the woods...
The moon sighs...the splendour
of its faded smile becomes
the light that guides the stars
the insomniacs, the drifters,
the lonesome travellers,
and invites their spirits
to a dance...until the curtains
are blurred, and the colours
of the approaching dawn
patch and pour the healing balm
over its wounds.
-Waldeinsamkeit-
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem