I was lying atop a house
Surrounded by tress and sunlight
Beside me lay my first sweetheart
And we spoke of love and things that
Were our hands flittering this way
And so on
A dream
Her eyes cold and gray
How frail these hands were
Her sullen cheeks
Such death in her beauty
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
deeply reflective, yet blantantly vivid. ? ....are you 21 just curious. best care, susanj.