There's a dowager sky in the east, at the morn,
Wearing one jewel of the new day that's born;
Thin as the wisp of the moon, at her throat-
Riding all day, on her cloudy blue boat.
She takes off her blue, as the day's closing down,
And puts on her stole- with the diamonds around-
And blinks trembling eyes, on our tired, sleepy world-
And waits patiently, for the day to unfurl.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem