The night is still and
Dark
The moon is enwrapped
In the curtain of clouds
He appears in my thoughts
Hidden, masked
Like a silhouetted figure
Who is he?
The man of my wordy world…
Before I could figure
A mysterious breeze
Typical of sultry summer nights
Blows across and
Sweeps him away from the
Screen of my mind
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem