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Wind calls
the fantasy of a witch
The wind calls to the temple of Delphi
And eagles' wings, parallel
They stop the spirit of turmoil;
Apparently, however, the ability to see and meet
Is dead,
and the dead moon
His black shawl
covered with clouds
We,
me and the moon
Are starring each other
As the time pass by
and weaves poetry
In their conversation
© All Rights Reserved
The wind calls to the temple of Delphi
And eagles' wings, parallel
They stop the spirit of turmoil;
Apparently, however, the ability to see and meet
Is dead,
and the dead moon
His black shawl
covered with clouds
We,
me and the moon
Are starring each other
As the time pass by
and weaves poetry
In their conversation
© All Rights Reserved
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