The moon is full above Mount Inglismaldie
and mirrored on obsidian Two Jack Lake;
the nights are growing long, but no Vivaldi
concertos leap the seasons' firebreak—
there's silence. Now a lone coyote flows
along the bank then, head raised like a seal
balancing a moon-ball on her nose,
poises to unthroat a call. I feel
her loneliness—she's come so close to me,
it seems as though she may have lost a mate
and sensing me has sparked an urge to yowl
to any living thing for company,
but, even so, I don't anticipate
the utter woebegoneness of her howl.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dear poet Beaton, you have so touchingly inscribed the wildlife encounter when you were camping in the mountains of Alberta beside a calm lake that reflected the moon. I love the following lines.... her loneliness—she's come so close to me, it seems as though she may have lost a mate and sensing me has sparked an urge to yowl to any living thing for company, but, even so, I don't anticipate the utter woebegoneness of her howl. Thanks.10