From the morning twilight,
the sun rises too highlight,
a beginning of earthly birthright,
and set about the day,
The light, shining firsthand,
shimmers across the land,
as night feels its strife,
light's behemence to life.
The morning dew,
who once condensed,
decamps into air,
as incalescense prospers.
A light breeze jostles,
a branch in season dormant,
life passionately waiting,
this cold season's debarment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A joy smile i seeing here, like a pastel coloring in the freezing morning...it's a cold sentimental poem, a good present for winter season :) nice one Richard! keep writing :) _Unwritten Soul