The stars shine bright,
Singing their song of joy,
They litter the sky like fireflies,
They Sing to the jet black sky,
All without a sound,
Bright sparkles in a slow flight across the globe,
The things they'd see, the things they'd do,
All in a simple motionless flight,
As the world around seems to move and they stand still,
The sky catches them, one by one,
As then their song becomes louder, bit by bit,
Little fireflies, simply burning their light,
Would their song be the same if they had hands to touch,
A perfect imperfection,
Manifested by God's breath, as they become closer,
Without air to flow through their lungs, still the sky pulls them to its chest, without hesitation,
Without pause,
As to it, its the most beautiful thing its seen, heard,
For it sings,
If they ever lost their light,
It would still be there to catch them if they fell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem