What fortune bids its mysteries hides
clouds and mists but only stars confides.
In darkness we walk with changing tides
to find bubbles of foam and soap that shines.
Riddles they be
these bubbles of many shapes and sizes we see,
and yet riddles they shall stay
forever as pearlescent as every pearl in every bay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem