a brush of light
that painted
a little corner deep
in the firmament
before it turns
into dark.
A dream that vanished
before it even became
a glisten of wish
a bud that withered away
before I study it
or it was just a breath
which sacrificed itself
for other breaths
and shone like a Sun
before it unites itself
with the Infinite Being
the 'Ancient of Days'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely poem which has colours of creativity...loved it: -)