The crimson hues of morning call,
its fingers touch some but not all.
The golden orb on the horizon wake
intensifies the morning skies.
We watch in wonder
at the beauty of a dawning day.
Soon the quiet of early morn
will be shattered as things awake.
Enjoy the moments of tranquillity
as from the eastern horizon
the morning does wake.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem