Every morning when daylight breaks-
which mortals call sunrise-
the golden eagle, wings aloft,
soars into the skies.
His brazened talons are gleaming,
his feathers burning bright
and a shimmer dances across his eye
as the world is lit alight.
He watches as they gather-
men, children of the sun,
to be warmed, to dance, to frolic and sing,
until they all leave, one by one.
And at last, when none but he are left,
He sighs a gentle sigh,
and begins his slow descent
till all glow fades from the skies.
And again, when morn will come,
the eagle again shall rise
with wings aloft and brazen hue
bring life to earth and sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem