The flowers come out at Night and shine their beams -
As stars, which waft a breeze through Her dark veil.
Aromas flood through desolate grey dreams:
In Jasmine hues and Primrose, they assail.
The horns which felled Old Jericho still sing.
Their roots now man the walls and nosegays call
In whisper; summoning the folding wings -
Of moths - who follow Nectar’s scent, to stall.
These beat out time, when Luna’s sense holds sway
And sleeping mortals in their beds do lie.
The Sandman’s hand they grasp and wend their way
Through gaudy-petalled lands; where dreams are plied.
This floral nocturne ends its sweet journey,
When bright Aurora orders reveille.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem