Pulsing, breathless, circular rainbow
suspended below me, ebbing, flowing,
my sketch entitles 'Mine eyes have seen....'
Later library, drenched Hartz mountain,
'Brocken spectre', my shadow haloed
on clinging cotton swaddling limestone cliffs.
'A rare phenomenon called....A Glory!
observed by fliers before a combat.'
God moves in many mysterious ways.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem