Dusk switched off
its time.
Anon
the fountain of the night
spurted high in the airs
darkening deep dusk-brown.
the night fountain
secluded
yet inhabited at night
satyrs, nymphs, fauns,
ghosts, shrouds and more
and
no nightingale sings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem