Sadness Of The Moon (Tristesse De La Lune) : Translation
Poem By Michael Buhagiar
A more langorous moon is dreaming this night:
Like a beauty on several cushions reposing
Who caresses with a hand discreet and light
The contour of her breasts before the closing
Of sleep, on those soft avalanches’ satined
Back, dying, she is given to rapture,
And roams her eyes on the visions twinned
That ascend like blossoms, white into azure.
When sometimes she lets fall, in her dreaming bound,
A furtive tear to this earthly ground,
A poet - stranger to sleep she has won -
Will catch that dropp in the palm of his hand,
Of irissy refractions, like a fragment of opal, and
Put it in his heart, out of sight of the sun.