Dreaming autumn night is really an
Unspeakable pleasure; he knows it.
Therefore when dusk settles on earth
Inviting blinking stars to showcase
Their tiny births; when coy crickets
Being too cold in season’s first dews,
That drip from the cold cheek of Moon,
As a visitor in darkness at breathless recluse,
He sits on a stone with accompanying comforts.
Then lifts his eyes to Moonshine expanse, that
Veiling the black of heaven with soft light,
Which appears celestial more in condensing mists.
Boundless dark field runs miles over hidden greens,
Sparingly spotted with intermittent glow of worms
Swelling in numbers; silence invites silence,
Words of noise has fallen in lengthy slumber, and
Not to adieu their grassy beds
Till cock crows and shadow of night is defaced.
He knows all as viewed them in previous night,
Season’s finest hours here to stay,
And busy owls strike shrills that thrill his drowsy nerves.
He knows that this night has end,
Not of dreams, in seeming obscurity of day.