A gentle blend of primaries
Running through the spectrum
Evoked by the haunted.
An echo of prior breaches
Into the ocean of primal pain
The birthplace of so many songs
No more longing, indeed
The song reflects, short of primal rage
No more, because the object faded
Or the desire extinguished
By default, when the supplicant
Finally succumbed, to the rainbow
Of aquamarine wave crests
And lavender dreams.
9/25/03
hey yeoucheng. do yourself a favor and cut out this poetry you would probably make better poems if you threw away your computer go back to solving rubic cubes and eating hot dogs or whatever japs do
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful sentiment YeouCheng, if only everyone HAD empathy. You paint a warm picture.Bravo.