She's all piano legs
And benchmarked pride;
Careful as the notes of an Italian sonata,
Musicality keeping her upright
When gravity makes her too heavy to move.
Her sleeping notes quake imperceptibly
At the bottom of the scale,
While her high notes tap it out
Highstrung, across the ceiling.
Or her two legs might make a sudden movement;
Then a novel melody breaks, mid-stride.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ok. I give up! Just exactly WHEN did you meet my Mother -in-Law? And why has she never told me about your poetic prowess? (She is a literary addict. I worship at her bookshelves....)