Like a secret behind hundred frills of fine soft wool, 
with a crescent to embrace while longing for a full.
in the sun it shines and gladdens me with a lovely smile, 
my nugget softly buried in a heating crumb pile.
unearth on my lap it appeals to my bleary sight, 
my priceless companion in a windy lonely night.
A short-lived episode with a roughly defined arab crack, 
as the dawn knocks, I carefully rest it in its comfy sack.
My beautiful ARAB, The Desert and The Gold, 
what a befitting outfit for the mother lode.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem