The hand of nature has a pace
a timing and a way
that works unnoticed by the crowds
that rush about all day
High mountains form in mighty shapes
that take ten million years
the deserts bloom or dry to dust
though sleepy they appear
Strong winds change quickly or die down
by measured ways and means
the sky a wide kaleidoscope
of ever changing scenes
These transformations all around
evolve in perfect pace
but deep down on the ocean's floor
sea creatures shape their trace
Beneath the glistening of seas
that turn from green to blue
or frothy white with crests of waves
there lies a world few view
No masterpiece created by
the hands of humankind
compares in cunning and delight
with forms sea creatures twine
The little clams, the coral forms
dark barnacles, white shells
sea urchins and quaint mollusk forms
touch wrecks with magic spells
Dank water tombs of sailor men
and cargo doomed and lost
are sculptures that small sea born elves
with cunning art emboss
The hand of nature has a pace
a timing and a way
that works unnoticed by the crowds
that rush about all day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wonderful work, the ever changing skies and sea sculptures, magical, Liilia