Dozing in a moonlit berth,
you might ponder what home is worth
as your eyes float out of the porthole,
where an old sailor circles the earth.
Moonlight and frost have bled
to the path your eyes will tread.
The bright lamp navigates no one
back to their abandoned bed.
The cold and dark surround
your ears, high above the ground.
Switch to an in-flight channel
and you'll hear the moon resound.
The future is hard to surprise,
the past -- a night to analyze.
Frost on the telescope's lens.
No heart knows where it lies.
Alistair Noon grew up in Aylesbury, England. He lives in Berlin,
Germany, where he works as a translator. His poetry and
translations from German and Russian have appeared in
chapbooks and online. This poem is from his collection Earth
Li Bai on a Quiet Night
By Alistair Noon
Bright moonlight in front of a bed --
perhaps just frost on the ground.
A raised head gazes at the moon,
sinks, and thinks of home.