Precious Love Poem by Karlene Garner
Precious Love
Part of the moon was falling down in the west,
Dragging the whole sky with it to the hills.
It's light poured softly in her lap.
She saw it,
And spread her apron to it.
She put out her hand among the harp like
Morning glory strings.
Taut with dew from garden bed to eaves;
As if she played, unheard, some tenderness.
That wrought on him beside her in the night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 11:52:44 AM # 1.0.0.1119
