it had rained fully four seasons.
there was thought the sun had died.
the philosopher produced sound reasons.
it was widely presumed the promise lied.
Man had invented the man-made fire
and covered its images in myrtle leaves.
the sound of burning mounted higher
and deafened night in stench of weeds.
the garden had been left unattended
and in the city anarchy was law.
love of Man had all but ended.
in the grand design there was a flaw.
time lost its direction. future stopped.
then sun's eye from dim cloud popped.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem