It was a green world
like the field of the wheat.
Three ladies took a walk
in the hot morning after the grass remained dry without dews.
As if the sun shined throughout the night
they walked in majesty of roses
drowning in the morning,
saved by pinkly sumptuous kiss,
with a crown on their head
brushed with green ashes.
They rolled their brows into their eyes
and ruined the dreamless dawn
that stole the owl holiness.
These ladies came from the west of western waves
waiting with weeded wheat wasted by warming wigs.
I was lying on the grass
when I saw three green gowns greet the blizzard.
N...........U.............A
the sound of rusting coins charmed the keys of passion
pasted with several tones.
At this point of joy I wished only
for the greeting.
N.........U..........A.
But all my ears bought were the sound of
rusted coins sweeter than the
songs of the coins.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great poem liked it, a very good write. May i invite you to read my poem called, Rising soul.