The dawn slips silver through the veil of night,
As if the sky forgets the dark it wore;
Old stars grow pale before the growing light,
And hours loosen what they held before.
The river keeps the secrets of the years,
Its patient flow outlives our brief alarm;
In leaf and cloud, in falling rain and tears,
Time learns from nature how to wound and warm.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem