Every instant a new miracle occurs:
The sunlight takes eight minutes to arrive,
Melting the straggling moonbeams at the edge of daybreak,
Replacing them with dazzling many-coloured waves.
In perfect choreography the grammar of creation
Sways, shimmering, and spirals with intricate revolvings;
In bird flight, in clouds, in gnats, in star swarms~
Nothing is sterile; nothing is salutary;
The subtle, invisible template keeps
The dark ocean inviolate, true to it’s own time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem