The Moon - William Henry Davies

It's been too far long, almost seven months since my last post. Now I 'm here again. I signed in to my blog today after months of not being able to sign in to blogger.
I put a nice poem by William Henry Davies in this post. Enjoy it!

William Henry Davies (1871– 1940), English poet whose lyrics have a force and simplicity uncharacteristic of the poetry of most of his Georgian contemporaries. 

After serving as apprentice to a picture framer, Davies tramped through the United States, crossed the Atlantic many times on cattle boats, lost a foot while trying to jump a train headed for the Klondike region in Canada, became a peddler and street singer in England, and, after several years of this wandering life, published his first volume, The Soul’s Destroyer, and Other Poems (1905). He was then living in London. The Autobiography of a Super-Tramp (1907)—the best known of his prose works—appeared with a preface by George Bernard Shaw, followed by Nature Poems and Others (1908). His poetry includes Forty New Poems (1918), Poems 1930–31 (1932), and The Loneliest Mountain (1939). The first of the collected editions appeared in 1916. Although his work achieved wide popularity, Davies lived the life of a recluse. His Collected Poems appeared in 1942.

 

The Moon
Thy beauty haunts me heart and soul
Oh, thou fair Moon, so close and bright
Thy beauty makes me like the child
That cries aloud to own thy light
The little child that lifts each arm
To press thee to her bosom warm

Though there are birds that sing this night
With thy white beams across their throats
Let my deep silence speak for me
More than for them their sweetest notes
Who worships thee till music fails
Is greater than thy nightingales

ترجمه به فارسی:
ماه
زیبایی ات دل و جانم را تسخیر می کند
آه، تو ای ماه زیبا، که بسیار نزدیکی و روشن
زیبایی ات مرا همچون کودکی می سازد
که بلند می گرید تا نورت را ازآن خود گرداند
کودکی که بازوانش را می گشاید
تا تو را به گرمی در آغوش بفشارد

گرچه پرندگانی هستند که در این شب می خوانند
نور سفید تو بر گلویشان
بگذار ژرفای سکوتم از جانب من سخن گوید
بهتر از نغمه های شیرین پرندگان
آن که می پرستدت تا زمانی که موسیقی پایان یابد
برتر از بلبلان توست