Butterflies are mimicing her fingers;
I haven't the foggiest idea which is which.
Birds nest in her throat and lip,
Chirping as if she were singing.
A pianist is playing the piano, singing in spring,
Or spring is springing a song in a singing pianist.
I haven't the haziest idea which is which.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem