The sky is painted crimson-gold
With swaths of orange and red,
As clouds of cotton candy-pink
Form above my head.
The sun is setting on the hills,
It's golden warmth is gone.
Tomorrow morning it will bring
A new day with the dawn.
And, as it slowly sinks and fades,
I bid a fond farewell,
For what the future holds for me,
Only time will tell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem