by Luis G. Dato
Above the palms I see now no bright star
To flood the vale with tremulous, affable light,
With the white moon to turn to day the night,
Earth’s dark paths to illumine from afar.
The goddess Cynthia in her silver car
I miss, and her refulgence warm and bright,
And bitterly I rue my hapless plight,
Here in my dark room like a prison bar.
No evening star o’er earth, nor over yet
The bottomless abyss of vain desire,
To soothe the soul or make the heart forget
Its torment in your absence set afire,
In solitude I mourn the day we met
And by the wall put back my desolate lyre.