Ageless, timeless, ever watching.
Son of moon, father of star,
sitting atop his moonlit throne.
He counts no time, but time itself counts him,
he holds no friends, but all in time know him.
He stood watching, before those he watches began,
he will watch long after they have gone.
He has no wants, knows not emotion,
he watches, will always watch.
The figure on the hill.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem