After the twilight dies,
In the distance vague and dim,
While Hesperus still like a jewel lies
On the dark horizon's rim,
There is born a strange and haunting light, —
Is it a ghost at the gates of night?
Or, seen as it glimmers afar
With a soft and mystical ray,
While over the sea the Morning-star
Lingers to kiss the Day,
Is it the smile of Aurora, who waits
For the Dawn, with her steeds, at the rosy gates?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem