An orange glow against the dark,
The heart of evening built from spark,
Brings me a feeling of such content
That when I lose it, I lament,
But I do not fear, for when I went
To bed that night, I slept and spent
Not one moment on repent -
Though I admit I did require
A need to see it again transpire,
And as I prepared to retire,
In my memory burns this fire
Throughout my mind, like a wire
Accessed whenever I desire.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem