Consider the minuscule points of Time
Upon which the momentous sits atop!
As seed capsules out of God's hand that drop.
What has a tree's stature? An air sublime?
Tis Love, fated Love! In its shade's embrace
One's took-in-by deathless spring's forecasting.
And of the same is that gazer casting
Blossomy worlds with a japanese face!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem