Days keep numbers and letters,
Staying with literature and answers.
The new evening and next the morning
Constitute a daily progress of our Star.
Weeks and more weeks have a strain
On us if we object to the Moon -
A Bringer of Tides, non-foolish,
And maker of the waves of our Seas.
Lands cry out under the Skies.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem