I sat last night on damp plowed ground.
Above the sky felt close around.
The clouds were broken by silver rays;
Each was a blue and gray curtain array.
All moved swiftly on their way.
The moon a silver sphere seemed very near,
When the clouds allowed it to appear.
The refreshing beauty of the sky was made,
In the marvelous broken patterns, hues, and shades,
of silver, blue, and gray.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem