On a cloudy day,
I sit and play
with my hands in clay;
muddy hands make a hut;
hoping
Sun’s bounty in thought.
In latent light,
I dream it bright.
to make it look
like a mundane sight.
Clouds are still there,
but why fear?
For I descry a descending ray
whispering in ear-
stick to your resolve,
horizon will soon be clear'
on this cloudy day,
I still sit and play
with my hands in clay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem