The gloaming, a soft time, a silent time
The hush of day. A small allotment of time
Amid haste and pause, a time of reflection
A moment when most activity is in decline,
when one's mood leisurely becomes thoughtful
And alters with the deepening of the setting sun
Turning back the wick of Gods lamp
How beautiful the sight
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem