Crescent Moon

By: Gazal

Riding on skirts of the wind,
arriving gently into my realm.

Her mind pulses gently,
silently, like a distant star.

She guards her passion,
like a sharp sword within the sheath.

Like ice, that hard, frigid matter,
that melts willingly with time.

Her voice, timid, circumspect,
betrays her tormented soul.

I covet her, I desire her like a dervish,
twirling endlessly in the night.

She arrived and tortured me,
then returned like an easterly breeze.

弦月

她乘着清风的裙裾，

翩然而致我的领地。

轻轻地，静静地，

思绪闪动似星际。

被严守的热情，

是她未出鞘的宝剑。

冰样的坚硬寒冷，

终有消融的一天。

谨慎迟疑的声线，

泄露了她灵魂的熬煎。

对她入髓入魔的思念，

令我狂舞的双足彻夜地转。

她留下无尽的折磨，

便如春风一转不见。