The different colours blended in,
a beautiful site indeed,
slowly entering and leaving,
a story it reads,
kept in a twisted cover of curtains,
a closet filled with life,
not to be mentioned to others,
to continue tailing this mystery,
keeps one occupied.
Sunset is so colourful a mystery that what science tells us seems irrelevant.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice that's sick