With this moment to moment's
Shadow-encroachment
Windowed, darker, before this
Grave sense, more urgent
Of life, closer to its dusk
Than to its dawning
Looms up this thought-impression:
To hold, hang onto
Time's feather-flight. That which gleams
In passing, anew.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem