Watching sunlit shadows stalk the ground,
hiding within the new coverlet of darkness
descending on earth.
Bellowing out chords of reparation for some
to see and anticipate regularly.
Quietly pacing through motions of evening,
listening to eerie pools of past representations,
timing everything in moments of access limited
only by the boundless energy of youth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem