As when I from out
the church porch did look
upon a sky a pale moon had lit
and walking to an ancient tree
trying to see where darkness had been born
I saw the moon in a stream
content to run along
and thought how long ago
had the ditch been dug
that orphaned planks of wood
sheltered over from a camera flash
trying to capture the obscure light
that beggars believe from dusky eyes
along the pathway side
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem