Three hundred feet high the rocket stood.
All was quiet, the air was still.
A massive column, but move it could
It waited and waited until - - -
The countdown ended, the engines lit.
Flames shot out and hid the tower.
The rocket rose slowly, bit by bit.
What a noise, what awesome power.
As it climbed the faster it went
Leaving behind it clouds of fire
Which hid it as it made its ascent.
It tilted as it got higher.
The next stage fired as the first was spent.
Still higher the rocket did go.
With the third, into space it was sent.
It was lost to view from below.
As it left Earth, the engine was cut.
The fuel saved ‘til it reached its goal.
No longer seen from the launch site, but - - -
It was tracked from Mission Control.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem