Could mother earth ere bring a scene more true? 
False would be the soul of one who’d scoff 
Blind as bat, or snug like pig, snout in trough 
To miss a scene like this, of ocean azure blue 
Great ships so filled with mystery and with crew 
Change shape and size, come close and taper off 
Into a sweet horizon that swallows in a gentle cough 
That leaves a mist as subtle as the morning dew. 
There on far horizon, where artist waits to paint 
And poet pens a love song, sits silent and alert, 
Twittering birds sing evensong; lovers simply faint 
As all the world erupts in beauty and in truth 
That dances o’er the waves, makes music in the dirt  
Where naked feet caress a soil both moist and O so quaint.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    