A tear slowly descends down her cheek,
her green eyes, clouded by wet surroundings,
hollowed by the remembrance of a loss,
locks of hair twist, encasing a snow white face,
pink pouting lips, show the pain of cost.
To the right, two leaves of oak dangle,
embracing the silhouette of passion
heart shaped infusion of male and female,
touching only at forehead and toes,
a silent voice to a passionate tale.
Who says a picture contains no voice,
and paint on pallet hold no emotion,
as the second leaf frozen in free fall,
speaks of Loves fragile to's and fro's,
that one picture, containing voice, has said all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
wonderful composition, of high creative acumen