The morning sun advances flames
and fires the afternoon,
While evening tide cools down the fever,
attending-Oh! much too soon.
What gazed on in the morn, that seemed so elemental then
Loses its young perspective-
When nighttime rounds the bend.
No longer do morns simple tales
Seem simplistic and refined.
Nightime re-adorns them-
As does also passing time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem