Our soft shadows crisscross,
I clasp wisp hands, they clasp mine
Shade silk strands link locks,
Golden lands, shining blue bright
Waning sighs silhouette our thoughts,
Dash and dance, the world will fly
The day is nigh; receding clocks,
Shadows glance, then ebb to night
Our soft shapes still crisscross
Despite
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
wow so much packed in here, very good, and yet still room for the reader to involve him/herself. that third line was a doosey! ! talk about alliteration! ! I'm calling it post-impressionistic, meaning expressionistic. -landrey