I saw you tip-toe with a new bout of class,
with the eyes that they gave me that were carved out of glass.
Your skin stretched softly against all your bones,
and your heavy, light heart that was chipped out of stone.
God stole the raindrops that fall from the skies,
and placed their grace in the depths of your eyes.
And with your fingertips, you begin to entice,
the same fingertips that were built out of ice.
So as you leave, as you pranced, as you twirled,
you left natural beauty that can rival the world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem