The looking down upon,
Through wisps of cloud and contrail,
Column dust and blizzard snow,
Factory plume and bomb smoke -
We barely spoke
Before the border, no
Negotiation tactic, no
Diplomatic maneuver -
Though a gem is beautiful,
Like you,
Someone will purify it -
Shine a light through it -
Make a weapon of it -
And transform you from a gentle prophet
To a killing machine -
There’s a lunar surface rarely seen -
There’s a face on it -
Maybe God’s,
Maybe Indifference -
Favoring a known darkness
Away from us.
Is it a rising star or a star who has already risen? Excellent. H
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
May the gentle prophet be as mighty as a tiger, as elusive as the snake and as cunning as a jackal yet always remain the gentle prophet and may God's favor shine upon you.