swaying toward Kizhi Pogost in a soft surprise
of faith and hope, the angelic atmospheres
had filled with Chrysophrase-bloom and Freesia scent
those welcoming words, her failing accent
one seamless robe, her beauty spirit waits
on John Constable’s white anthem fights
for the silent saints who from their labors rest
her longing, beloved Besançon, pacing west
however to grief she grant her natural throes
and by their open bay amid the snows
of Paradise, thy tourmaline-crusted veils, thy go
must her precious life be nobler than a year ago
take her this Skocjan Caves of the living rock
and sculpture sisterhood from the savage block
strikes down those dusky carnivals to that marvelous gloom
of Chalcedony Splendor, and the Love in home
of Paradise, thy tourmaline-crusted veils, thy go it seems in this line you've used an old english word. Wow, it still fits!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
ahmad can you write a poem about the violin so that i print it and put it in my violin suitcase? ? please! ....so that when i open the case my colleagues may see it then i read it for them and say(shiddiqi wrote it) !