Beauty of the Moon
The moon, an island in the sea of space
Rimmed far across with whitest, softest foam
Upon its surface, flat, for countless days
Mysterious, thick mists, like shadows roam
To the high heavens, the sole stepping stone
A flower blossoming in silver light
That by itself, could set off all alone
The deep, dark pall embodying the night
O, moon, o moon, a tulip swaying free
A lovely, gracious, gentle, beloved maid
A drop of budding dew upon night's lea
A tree of snow-white leaves sprouting night's shade
O, moon, o moon, a skipper with flags, white
A kite with lovely, alabaster plume
Wandering, companionless the night
There’s no word to do justice to the moon
© 2013 Gleb Zavlanov
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