My hair is a waterfall, flowing down my back,
My skin is an egg, with speckles for freckles,
My eyes are decayed bits of bark, scrambled in the lush green grass,
My height is a small tree in the middle of a forest of pine trees,
My musical ability is the wind making a tune.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like the imagery of this poem. Very good. Keep writing!