The castle rose its fingertips
and on each of it, a siren
and among them, the myth
and nymphs and flowers
and in the garden, the muse
carefully counting her steps
with nervousness on her lips
and in the back of his mind
he saw his fear and laughed at it
for she was more afraid than him.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
more afraid than the self. good one.
:))