The Early Bird
She hovers not
but still hugs the horizon
Surfs the gap between the night and day
Upon the water
no reflection
ripples freeze in turn
She spreads her golden syrup
so it drizzles o’er the dawn
This early bird was born to be
the herald of the hue.
She carries all I long to see
She carries me to you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem