My time is married to shadow;
Where light happens before,
Darkness lurks beneath.
Like a veil opening a face;
To tied laces delicately unraveling,
Exposing tenderly wounded lips
And scarred eyes
He stares upon my innocence.
To a string of lights,
Stretched out far and wide,
Like an orchestra across the sky-
With each star,
A single note played masterfully.
Fluorescents are imitation,
As simple as an on-and-off switch,
Incomparable to nature's everlasting wonderment;
This simple fascination lingers endearing genuineness.
A timeless miracle to behold-
Its fragility measureless
Like a child taking flight across an open field
And each leg moving like tiny machines;
Light longs to spread inward.
The sun-a bright orange,
Oh! How bitter the rind must taste?
Does the acid of the sun burn so?
Indeed! It burns with a violent bite!
Black blinds drawn tight,
The bride with her shadow
Suspended in air with the seeds of foreplay-
Creating pieces of touchable light
In tune with the sun,
Nature rewards them,
Balancing their blood into one.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem