So many signs slip by.
The big ones, like stigmata
And the leaves changing
Are easy to spot.
If not, if missed,
The sun still shines in the morning.
Other signs will surprise us,
Births, texts, disappointments, so ons;
But before the sun fools me again,
I'll perceive the smile,
The whisper and whisp of eyes
While the spin continues
Revealing the daily signs of twelve o'clocks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem