the sun has a blunt hardness about it
keeping the world well lit
for the sun's carcinogenic touch we're unfit
a giant ball of fire
burning like a funeral pyre
but for who?
the stars are still out there
in the daytime
but it's in the night
that they're prime
the blue sky swirling in my mind
light specks in blue
i cannot find
no stars in this
glorious sunshine
the sun's touch
warm and kind
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem