Стихотворный перевод задали( Я не поэт, поможете?The Cloud-mobile

Above my face is a map.
Continents form and fade.
Blue countries, made
on a white sea, are erased,
and white countries traced
on a blue sea.
It is a map that moves,
faster than real,
but so slow.
Only my watching proves
that island has being,
or that bay.
It is a model of time
Mountains are wearing away,
coasts are cracking,
the ocean spills over,
then new hills
heap into view
with river-cuts of blue
between them.
It is a map of change.
This is the way things are
with a stone or a star.
This is the way things go,
hard or soft,
fast or slow.