Not content to let it just fade
one more masterpiece is displayed;
He paints the end of the day.
Great swaths of color
splash wildly across the skies;
a variety of hues in
reds oranges yellows and blues.
Then stretching forth his brush
for a finishing touch or two,
He whispers to the breeze
'yes, I think this will do.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem