Remnants remain of the low-hanging sun
Confident, he thinks he can’t be outdone
Beautifying eternity before he evades
Beaming golden lights before the moon raids
Then, he fades, and takes the afternoon
Leaving the sky for the silver-lit moon
He too, competes from afar
Pulling out his perfect little stars
He soon too, will disappear
When the sun starts coming close and near
But for now, he shows his cratered covering
Owning the sky while he’s hovering
Beauty is carried again and again
But, if a competition, who would win?
If they could know, they’d be stunned
Yes, the moon and the sun
They’d refuse to appear in bitter frustration
If only they knew God’s greatest creation
Their proud shine would be seen through
If they knew I thought the winner was you
Keep my secret, it is my plea
For the day and night mean much to me!
Let them flaunt with their great ambitions
But between me and you, there’s no competition
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem