At night the clouds are white and pale,
floating listlessly adrift;
Beneath a haze, grey tattered veil,
that threatens not to ever lift.
At daybreak, when the sun arises,
casting fire upon the skies,
Clouds come alive with dawn's surp
rises,
Sunspark in their misty eyes.
Crimson ribbons swirl and flow
around each silver streaming cloud;
Blushing deep pink tangerine glow,
Casting off night's dark grey shroud.
Drench with sun, to catch the light,
each gilt-edged cloud soars on in flight...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem