She comes again in the morning clouds;
And lights the sight of my pasturage;
But sooner to vanish into horizon's keep,
Like a sheep, to hide herself and sleep.
Come Sun, come home to where it is blue
And stay from day to day anew;
But then at dusk she would be gone
And leave my stars, at night, to mourn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem