Turn another blinded eye, oblivious
To cattail meadows strewn sea-to-sea -
Each stalk, brazed by arctic incursions
And baked by the sun in May.
Turn it over, the fortune card, reveal
What God has granted tomorrow -
A twilight storm or rolling foment -
Behind each prize-door,
For your prosecution.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem