It's been a lot of days after that When the night came to frost Narrowly in floating fog, Eagerly in vain The light of the muddy moon fallen on the waiting ship of a lonely port
Continuously chill north wind blowing on and over the wall of the standing darkness Unintentionally anchored in an insatiable spirit Widely the fugitive soul searching an unexpected very moonlit night
Ah! many of things stand apart As the cradle of classic love- Yet rising even swinging on the wind of last summer song And again in another silent night The sounds of dropping dew distinctly dissolving with the funeral of the poetry