Her fingers
Desperately type sincerities-
The simple
Publications of her affection.
Her singer
Looks pretty squawks out of key-
Blame it on
Complications from the brass section.
Her passions
Have been packaged and stored away-
Oh, such an
Unfortunate girl with disorders.
Her ashen
Anemic, white, motionless face,
Tossed out with
Old tapes, and outdated recorders.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
evocative, audra. can taste it - ~ - you place us there with the setting, the scene, the subject and further equip the reader with emotion, passion, a breath of quality. best care, sjg