The Vosges are blue:
A function of moisture in the air and refracted sunlight.
Not yesterday evening they weren't.
Oh no.
Yesterday evening above Cernay they were all moody, black and magnificent,
Stark-silhouetted against a raging, blood-orange sky:
A ridge-mouth full of bare, jagged teeth
Tearing a bite out of the flesh of heaven.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
For me, this style of painting pictures with words is reminiscent of Viola. Love the way a few well=chosen words can paint an entire canvas!