Every Morning the skies open its eye
Seeing the magic beneath its very high
Magic sustaining farm and a chimerical veracity
Soils, underneath a docile lamb in a rainy city.
Every Afternoon the smoky sky whitens its teeth
Smiling in amazement to the growing root
Mostly because money can not buy an atom of air
Sweet sweet its sings there is a unique face to every hair.
Every Evening the Earth sees its wonders up above
Solar solace, illuminating 'the Sky is a dove'...! !
Many sees it as a crest to the heavens vest
Sleeping singing sweet sounds of rest...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem