O year, grow slowly. Exquisite, holy,
The days go on
With almonds showing the pink stars blowing 
And birds in the dawn. 
Grow slowly, year, like a child that is dear,
Or a lamb that is mild,
By little steps, and by little skips,
Like a lamb or a child.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    