MY DAYS AND NIGHTS
(Spenserian stanzas)
That sleepless night didn't go a waste, in sloth.
Fistfuls of twinkling stars I could amass;
I jumped and hopped in milky moonlight froth
and etched my worthless name on skies, in gloss.
My nights, with eyes open, I dreamt daydreams
and during days, eyes closed, recalled those nights
and spoiled papers reams and reams and reams.
One day I found my weighty poems at heights
of skies, in my kid's tender hands, as buoyant kites.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem