She said, 'I can sing a song'
She said, 'I can make it blue'
Your tears may find me
Their trails I've traced
A thousand times
From a distance
In safety
My strings pulled
Down stroke, solitude
Sweet lonely resonance
Up stroke, longing
Where have my notes floated
Apt instrument
Gives me a voice
Elegantly morose
Unparalleled in beauty
Speak my truth
When I cannot
Trade vocal chords
For strings of gut
Unafraid in my terror
The violin sits
Blue in appearance
Yet undaunted
When she speaks
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem