Be quit alone
We ate lunch in the park
Giggled, ran, along
On the railings of a
boathouse
To see anything
Column is that season
Spearless to linger
Want to know about
And sashay in and out
of Tiffany's
She put her head over mine
A fancy development that finds
A breakfast at the table
All the while the excellent sable
And sashay in and out of Tiffany's
The possibility of a tear
These were little daisies
Justice according to men
They weren't elusive
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem