She is the morning dew.
At the crack of dawn, she is always due.
She is the sunrise.
Her warmth melts an ice.
She is the mid day shadow,
Like the wind is, to the dhow.
She is the afternoon nap,
A rest which fills your cup.
She is an ending,
The very last punctuation in reading.
She is a dove,
And everything all above.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem