In the dark light
Blind the spiders wove
And wove
The web of culture
And
Dawn stopped not:
For they were as
Of the Dawn herself:
And so
Continued in the
Light of day
Even when the sweaty zenith
Had reached up to the sun
Then
In the fainting afternoon
They lazed
And sighed
As sunset clasped
Her belongings to go:
Sighed
More at fading of the day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem