The wheels of time turn
And night becomes day
All pains of the past
Slowly fade away
Warmth rises over the horizon
And light pierces the sky
The dreams left unfulfilled
Slowly begin to die
High now is the sun
Breathing life upon the land
Sorrows fail to show face
And death has the lesser hand
Soon the sun will set again
And bring the moon into play
Followers of the whitest light
Now come out to play
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem