Speaking equally; Lady of my Horizon,
They resembling a wondered child -
Whose mother is lone as its moon,
To a twilight, where night is passed.
The plot she always left alone,
Her sickle with curve of Water -drop,
Of rising sun to all its claim -
In her eyes to reap the first crop!
Rooted and under her throat -
They stood high, and erect -
Of thoughtful salutation,
In her noblest Heart, as far as I behold -
Of highest blue, to its splendid tune.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem