Can lightning hang,
Weather worn,
Tattered and weary,
Dribbling down,
dropping to it's goal
like water spilling
in the breeze
from a fair vessel
Quickening the sky, he comes
Heralded tardily, by his brother
who runs the skies,
Chasing his reflection
Rolling on long after the light
To echo off distant mountains
or get trapped under cloudy skies
The first he races,
sending out brilliant illumination
fading into oblivion after a moment
Only to reappear
Fresh and new
Not hanging but lancing
Earthward
To strike up the song
(14/06/1993)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
good to see this on the web