La luna del otoño

Autumn Moon

My complaint of the winter curse
Seas gentle,
A peace within.
Turbulence above the still deep.
Coloured fish,
Black in the inky dark
In verse this waning disc,
Transports me to and fro.
And I shall will it to cease,
Eventually.
With one fist clenched to earth,
The other open to sky
And my eyes one closed and one open.
But until then the travelling disc,
In movement shades the striking contrasts,
As we shuffle on,
Obeying its mighty joy.