Silvery-green
tresses gleam
their murmurings sweet
of an eventide dream.
A stormy wind hovers
o’er rough, rugged swells
icy blue flickers
warmed by sunset’s flushed dells.
Pale gentle twilight
seeks her playmate afar
and welcomes the dusk
with her eyes full of stars.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Crowded with beautiful images woven into a tapestry of a gentle soothing rhythm. Keep going Ada. I love the way you think. Take care