Your crimson blush....
Your oceans flow....
Resembles not....
An undertow, ....
For you are honest....
Sweet and frank....
Your emotions tide....
Laps at your banks; ....
You are the seasons....
Ebb and flow, ....
Sometimes you wane, ....
You swell and grow; ....
Your face is like....
A looking glass....
Where every thought....
Is seen to pass; ....
And yet this lack....
Of subtlety, ....
Does not at all....
Diminish thee; ....
Your blush invites....
Men to advance....
When they are captured....
By your glance.....
....
....
...
Very nice flow, bar one line.. Your emotions tide.... I would just remove the Your, to leave Emotions' tide Laps at your banks
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
... Myke's Riff, on David's Riff on Lainey's Undercutting The descriptions you render are all vaguely familiar I recall in the yesterdays. She wielded such luster Came on like gangbusters With her remarkable ways. I was along for the ride Matching stride for stride Then ran into your riffing. I tried hard to wrest Truly gave it my best All I was doing was whiffing. Eventually I was such a bore She turned me from her door Apparent, I would not get her. Now I happily string along Role-ing, one of her throng Alas, she just likes you better.