Fire burning heralds dawn,
its tendrils reaching out,
announcing birthing of new day
and the night time's rout.
Royal purple streaks of light,
amidst the blazing pink,
proclaim to us the death of night
and sunrise's brink.
Misty fingers swirl around,
before the fog has flown,
obscuring what there is to see
and is still unknown.
And then the sun's face rises,
just like an orb of gold,
announcing unto all the earth
new day to behold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem