Arching across a grey-blue sky
with prism colours in my eyes
bending through a crescent high
carrying our dreams of awe
leading to a pot we're told
that just might hold some gold.
But for me 'the gold' we see
as its bands of perfect hue
remind me of what is true.
Hidden in Your pure light
are all the colours of our sight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem