My factory of dreams
Spilled milk and cream
Dripping and spreading
Like your tangled hair
On a rainy day
And all that is warm
And all that is fair
Intrepid spirit
Now broken and repaired
Weave a tale
With threads of fantasies
That reveal
Slowly and surely
That spilled milk
That bowl of cream
Now empty and surrendered
To life's banalities
And succumbing to
Nature's vagaries.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem