Bless me Pale Moon,
Love left this Heart too soon.
And as the Sun reaches Noon,
Birds chirp their lonely tune:
As if to ease my mind-
Sight can come to the blind;
And lost treasures you'll find,
As the Gears of Time grind.
Destiny will not wrestle you from me,
But Harsh reality is All I see-
Yet waters will not break the levee.
My Rivers of Love race their torrential
Tributaries into your sea.
And then I will be free.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem