If I was only a sculptor
I would capture this apparition
That haunts my waking hours
I would form the sinews of her back
With cables made of steel
Then somehow I would make her shoulders rise
Like those of angel's wings
And her skin would be so smooth
As smooth as smooth as anything
With the innocence of a child
Her body screams for my attention
That my fingers cannot bring
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem