The glass looks at me, and I look back at it.
The aurora's colors shine, by daylight lit.
I see the tiny little bubbles, perfectly arranged.
The volcano's solid structure, all encased.
Each sphere a thought, a nightmare it seized.
I wonder how many bad spells I finally veered.
Like a mirror to which memories got attached.
I gaze at that magnificent, magical droplet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem