It's stronger than a thing should be, a resting place in flight.
And gathers all the strength it needs from shiny morning light.
Some older than the memory serves yet younger than it seems.
I even thought I heard some sing, but maybe those were dreams.
I grew a bit and ventured up to earn a goodly friend.
A thing that I could count upon, on that I could depend.
It has no face or mouth to speak or eye to see me dance.
Still I shall friendly, chat it up to spare me miss the chance.
Befriend us till the end of day and place them end to end.
While all the time I'm reaching out it held a hand to lend.
And now that time is drawing near and darker is the light,
I ask that you will, while I'm gone, do feed it shiny light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem