In a nocturnal caftan
Among graves and tombs
The Poet Seer
Roams.
The half moon
Lights the weak
Ways.
From the trees
In the morning
And even now
Fall leaves
Shadows flourish
Look
That's a ghost
There
A shroud
But the Poet Seer
Fears not
These be his kith and kin
These fellow travelers
Kindred Soul
Noble or
ennobled
These his inspiration be.
So he walks Earth with them.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem