The night
The night
Shouted the Owl.
She ruffled her feathers.
On another bough
A nightingale hid
Behind a cluster of
Searing leaves
That yet remained
For now
Till now.
Sung the first note,
The nightingale.
The Owl was first, there
Before
Wither
Wise grumbling
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem