Before Sunrise
George Traki
In the dark many bird voices call,
The trees and the springs murmur noisily,
In the clouds a rose-colored glow sounds
Like early love’s distress. The night blues away –
With shy hands the twilight softly polishes
The love lair, feverishly stirred up,
And lets the drunkenness of languished kisses end
In dreams, smiling and felt half-awake.