Moments come and go
Onset from dark waft
Therein across deep slow
A grasp of things aloft
Each to every new bias
In the giddies of quick
From every corner impious
Igniting its action wick
Around it goes to wait
Through twisted axes on
To find again its grate
Before its powder is gone
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem