After all, when the gleaming arc of the sun
sets beneath the painted sky,
gathering the blue darkness of dusk around it,
After all, when the pale splendour of the night's radiant moon
touches the whispering fields,
casting them as silver,
After all, as Time continues to walk,
and the face of the earth sees dawn and twilight,
who will look upon your soul but yourself?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautiful poem, a great write.