How familiar must it be
that you put the horizon to sleep
and welcome the silent skies,
like babies lulling,
and adults guarding time!
You are a prayer
O' sickle-shaped cursed beauty,
a smile on starry turfs
that comforts farmers,
ensures no fiery storms
over their just sown crops!
You are sincere poetry...
see there, O' Moon,
again I write this,
perhaps shall I write more,
for I love to read you:
you age with my conscience
and are born again
alongside my romance!
You define my longing for the Hills,
those uncivilized lands of intelligence-
I vouch for your sight amidst the snow
but you wouldn't just be there, would you?
that you put the horizon to sleep
and welcome the silent skies,
like babies lulling,
and adults guarding time!
You are a prayer
O' sickle-shaped cursed beauty,
a smile on starry turfs
that comforts farmers,
ensures no fiery storms
over their just sown crops!
You are sincere poetry...
see there, O' Moon,
again I write this,
perhaps shall I write more,
for I love to read you:
you age with my conscience
and are born again
alongside my romance!
You define my longing for the Hills,
those uncivilized lands of intelligence-
I vouch for your sight amidst the snow
but you wouldn't just be there, would you?
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