The serpents are asleep among the poppies, 
The fireflies light the soundless panther's way 
To tangled paths where shy gazelles are straying, 
And parrot-plumes outshine the dying day. 
O soft! the lotus-buds upon the stream 
Are stirring like sweet maidens when they dream. 
A caste-mark on the azure brows of Heaven, 
The golden moon burns sacred, solemn, bright 
The winds are dancing in the forest-temple, 
And swooning at the holy feet of Night. 
Hush! in the silence mystic voices sing 
And make the gods their incense-offering.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                     
                
Can u give me 5 pages about the poem for a project please