Warming sun, now a furtive stranger
Too shy to reveal your face,
Who takes sly peaks above the horizon
And is slowly fallen from grace;
Sidling between inky rooftops
Carrying watery light across hills,
Casting chiselled shadows down walls
But no soothing warmth instills;
How far from the summer days
Our weary bodies lie, wracked and finished
Our eyes bathed in gloomy darkness
Our threadbare hopes diminished;
But soon we will sing a different tune
And our weakness become the stronger,
For we know the shorter days are over
And tomorrow will be longer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful poem with some really good imagery. It ends on a very optimistic note. Refreshing to read.