1. a small poem on Moon in FRENCH
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Amid the cold and icy winds
of snow
their hunger howls outside
where prey is short
the hunters call to the moon
for support,
as packs still gather in her
lunar glow.
In depths of Winter when the
winds still blow
my Celtic kin revel as Gods'
consort
around the fires of ancient
tribal court
with wine and song their
stories freely flow.
So shines the Full Wolf Moon
across the sky
to light the Hunters' path as
witches fly
The answer sought when
howling their lament.
when first full Moon each
year is gleaming high
the wheel is turning from the
Winter's cry
and Spring shall
bring an ease to its torment
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