The gray gives way, a blush upon the pane,
And muted sounds begin to softly creep.
A distant horn, a whispered drop of rain,
Disturb the slumber of a city deep.
Then bolder notes, a vendor's early call,
The rumble low of engines starting slow,
A bird's sharp trill that answers over all,
As morning's gentle currents start to flow.
The shutters creak, a sleepy figure sighs,
And in the east, a golden promise brightens.
The hurried pace that soon will fill the skies
Begins to stir, its energy awakens.
So dawns another day, a vibrant hum,
Where life and labor have once more become.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem