Harnessing a storm,
I sometimes churn out
a chunk of ice; somewhere
down the sightless stream,
chip by chip
it sails away
The passing of those clouds
like a blanket in the gray;
be streaming down,
they also will
Even the morning fog
has to touch the ground
pouring forth its load,
every single day!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a strong poem with good rhythm, Ena