The night was warm and beautiful
and the air was crammed with love.
It was a scene of an idyllic beauty
An ideal reminiscent of a Monet painting.
And overwhelmed by the aromas of
The silver moon, as a candle beneath
The serene sky, so did I remained steady
In my deliberation with the transcendent mind.
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Ah! Then blew the wind
Painted, dark, lethal, and capricious
In accord with our notion of the democracy
Aloft the volcanoes of the conflicting ideology.
Helpless was I, just as a grain of sand,
Trampled by its own sweat on the desert of time.
As an apparition, I turned away from the world,
Kissed those shriveled lips and drank myself to sleep.
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