Moon, MoonLost in thought ─ tonight the moon ─
grazing the brow, translucent clouds
fleeced and stripped as if to croon
in hope and fear the waxen shroud
of an aged nun. Aureate dust,
the stars on high wheel slow
and earth breathes silence ─ just
as the sun blares its primal glow.
Moon, oh moon, what do you reflect?
Will we ever sleep, fresh and cool,
the night we internecine wars deflect
and rest ─ oh moon ─ why is Man the tool
of perverse impotence to select
your high coursing, not be lunatic fool?
(Translate by Justin Vitiello)