The gentle chirrup falls slowly with the sun.
Heat deprived children return home.
This sepia splattered sky knows of time before man.
Who will have the first eye of a blind sun born,
as jewels fall from eath to beyond.
A transparent moon sits on mountain top,
waiting for his time to shine.
Drawing ever closer wave to infinite sand.
Silence strikes the streets and the roads
through dark eyes.
Luna lavishly looks down,
sharing her Hoot; a night-time song,
And a pearl from a clam tossed to millennia gone.
Only a cool blue light sits over the heads of God's sleeping children,
Who tucks them in with his gentle hand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem