They say each day brings a new sun,

that each sun begins its life at dawn

and between stretching in the East

and settling in the West

each sun lives for one day only.

They say you have to welcome it.

You have to make a good world for it to live its one-day life.

There is where we are from

and there is where we are.

The waves lap soft at blue East,

and here the peaks cast stretching-shadows.

All we have to do is make a good day for the sun to live its one-day life.

Onward, always, in circles:

we are returning and we will return.

Sun sang beneath the horizon

with the same hum-song Sun sings

every evening

for the scorpions and tsunamis

and me.

When her watercolors dry, she rests.

Then, the blooming song:

the Sun a rose.

We have to make a good world,

anew each dawn,

each one-day life.