How every day can the bright sun dawn
And, every day, how can it bear
the pleasure of our mad lion minds?
It is a bluesky, timeless thought.
It is a mindless, skyblue tenderness.
It thrills with hope, each day,
the bright gold sun.
It is for us a bouquet of wonderful secrets.
But when we might come upon it…
Tsogdorjin Bavuudorj (born 1969) Mongolia
Translated by Simon Wickham-Smith
Source: The Best American Poetry
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