round
round the Earth
the myrrh and incense
blew their way
slow, slow, slow
yet
continuing as in ever-increase
there were
sacrifices
there was suffering.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The word GRAVITAS comes to mind after I read this poem. The voice speaking these lines is distant and impersonal; this is not meant to show an intimate mood. But still the voice acknowledges the beauty of the natural course of things: the very motion of the earth releases the sweet smell of incense which envelops the world like a benediction on the very real suffering of events on its surface.