The Stars Are

By Samuel Menashe
The stars are   
Although I do not sing   
About them—   
The sky and the trees   
Are indifferent   
To whom they please   
The rose is unmoved   
By my nose   
And the garland in your hair   
Although your eyes be lakes, dies   

Why sigh for a star   
Better bay at the moon   
Better bay at the moon . . .   
Oh moon, moon, moon

Source: Poetry (September 2004)