NOW that a crimson rambler
begins to crawl over the house
of our two lives-
Now that a red curve
winds across the shingles-
Now that hands
washed in early sunrises
climb and spill scarlet
on a white lattice weave-
Now that a loop of blood
is written on our roof
and reaching around a chimney-
How are the two lives of this house
to keep strong hands and strong hearts?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
love it so very much