The tree in front of my home
suffers from a moon-madness too —
in the silence of the night
it shivers as the moon starts bleeding
from the corner of the sky;
goes mum for a few hours
before leaping to catch a few stars of joy:
soon the tree is found heaving
with sighs of lost love and pining for new
under beams of delight
and happy tears of dew.
It, like me, loves to revel in darkness
before its leaves fall in love
with rays of delight
coming from above.
T
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I would like to translate this poem