I have painted pictures
tucked away,
in dark corners of a twisting path.
I have sketched life into its blurred stillness.
I have shaded beauty into its soft contures.
I have taught it to love me as I love it.
I have sparked this beautiful image.
Ripe with longing,
young and sweet.
Nicknamed: my dream.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What is this word " contures"? As I don't know the word, I searched, couldn't find…. Trying to be Shakespeare or Kunjan Nambiyar