a woman dreams that she turns
into an orange bird
and on the other hand the orange
bird seeing her so beautiful and complete
less the orange wings and feathers
dreams of having woman-hands
soft and a flowing body like a slender
river curving through along
the side of a big mountain where
the orange bird perches on a branch
of an olive tree beside it
convoluted, the thoughts unwind
themselves in sleep wanting rest
from all these warping of time
and seasons and images and swapping
between reality and dream
surreal and mundane
El rápido zorro marrón salta sobre los perros vagos, cerca de la orilla del río.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
She is young, naive and lovely Her eyes are oily marbles Her skin color exceeds her hair color lightly Her youthful flesh is passionate and supple good keep it up!