To hers is the wavy hair
curly in the seams
no longer than her arms
but black as ebony
She reminds me of an immaculate girl
always sweet and gentle
with skin that cares
and eyes that glare
I love her voice
youthful but glorious
more colorful than rainbows
still more splendid than echoes
A body of a queen
medicine with her command
cannot be neglected nor encased
for it struggles like the Andes wind
Lovely soul, a spirit of a mother
raging heart, light caresses
but what really counts is the point
that she is a divine conception
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem