A golden sphere is lifting up so slowly in the east,
The eye is looking towards it, and seeing such a feast,
Blazing with bands of colour, and giving a wondrous heat,
A view that to each observer, is something so complete.
The sphere goes on its journey, and starts slowly rising,
In different coloured guises, it begins such advertising,
Above the trees and fields, of this silent waiting land,
With a spectacle so splendid, so magnificent and grand.
A whole range of hues are seen, within this fiery glow,
Changing as the hours pass by, it then starts sinking low,
And if seen in splendid glory, is a wonderful imposing sight,
Out to the west, where it disappears into our moonlit night.
© Ernestine Northover
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem