The poem ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star'
was in the early eighteen hundreds penned
within the literary repertoire
Jane Taylor wrote, with lyrics that transcend
her times, and sung to tune of lullaby
in French, inspiring Mozart to compose
twelve variations— such a genius, aye—
with tuneful sparkle as the music flows.
Beyond our mortal ‘crossing of the bar'
in constellation Carina, ship's keel,
located twenty thousand light-years far
lies astral realm that's bursting out with zeal
and luminosity to twinkle bright
like diamond's dazzle in the sable sky
from huge sidereal's unstable light
way up above the earthly world so high.
Erratically seen with naked eye
through shrouding dust plus interval between
our home familiar where we're born and die
with scarce a rippled touch on cosmic screen,
that supergiant star a million times
the power of the Sun, which bears the name
AG Carinae, tweaks some paradigms
perhaps in capture of this larger frame
by Hubble telescope's perspective new
with nebula's whole structural surround
including vented remnants in the view
of one of brightest stars in Milky found.
Its nimbus is about five light-years wide—
a distance equal to the star most near
apart from Sun, Alpha Centauri— spied
in time of Ptolemy's Earth-centric sphere.
AG Carinae is an LBV
or luminous blue variable type
with periodic outbursts as a key
when its peculiar timing phase is ripe.
These stellar objects massively evolved
are said to be exceptionally rare
with much about their nature unresolved
regarding the quiescency and flare.
In Taylor's verses that continue on,
‘when gone the blazing sun', then in the dark
the traveler who lacks the lamp of dawn
is thankful for the little stellar spark
to light the way— in figurative sense,
so we may vision life and death sojourn
through sight with less benightedness intense
along the path from womb to ashen urn.
While not disparaging the knowledge earned,
by scientists who leave no stone unturned,
those giants who for deeper wisdom yearned
and plumbed enigmas, thus new ‘laws' discerned,
as coda, let Walt Whitman have last word
who wrote ‘when learn'd astronomer he heard,
with figures, diagrams, and proofs conferred
‘twas soon an urge inside of him demurred,
‘till rising from his seat he wandered out
into the ‘mystical night-air alone'
to look at stars in perfect hush devout
spurred on by unaccountable unknown,
as I through Hubble virtually gaze
to stretch perceptions to a broader plane
when wearied with our woeful worldly ways,
impulsed by an inherent want arcane.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hubble bubble trouble. You'd be in trouble in space without a spacesuit.