flighty windswept raven hair and
eyes deep
like black rudimentary soil,
mischievous, wildroot dimples,
lips full of the harvest moon…
O child of the weathered earth and the feathered sky,
you speak to me in tumultuous,
windblown words jittering with sentiment…
I dance and swirl in dirt and breeze
crying to the Heavens to let me
discover you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i could feel the intensity of your feeling, lovely, john