As the pink and blue
Sunset, over the mountains,
Gently reflects on
The window of my porch,
I think of all the
Passing years. I think of how
A certain soft light
Always appears, even when
Times are dark, and at
Their bleakest. I guess that's just
The way of the world.
There seems to be little point
In questioning it.
O beauty complements pain!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem