September fifth
This artist has canvas
Lengthy, wide
The sky
Blue brushed to the south
Full of paint both his palm
I can't see, he is far
Splash all over
Shaping hair, long curly silver
Then the sound
London's whip for the dog
Lion in circus
Observing; teeth bright
And then roar
Or tree in jungle, squeak, then it falls
And then roar
Or Japan in the war
And the bombs
And people's melted eyes
In my hand I have wine
On bottle and the cork
It's written "Argentine"
I must raise, masterpiece
To my right is Steeles; in front are trees
Heads, scarfs and giggles, Afghan girls in breeze
And their hair like this night
If compared his, man's light
Is like cave, his is sun, man's candle
I stand full naked, chest is land for his rain
Navy plane's barrier is chest hair
Having wine in this site is a must.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem