Days of beauty are at times in shadows
Of the cloudlets coming through the deep sky
The feelings of dark in questions of why
With some radiance aspect of their glows
The tender light in a heart that once was bright
Is shading in more and becoming all less
When heaven is in rain clouds without caress
And days become like silhouettes in night
Such days are lacking thoughts in serenely
And impaired to half in their broken dark
Too calm to be in good or endearingly
And never in grace to kindness embark
Shades of their ways are irked yet beautiful
In their raven tress and discordant dull
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Peter, a beautiful sonnet you have penned.