I touch you delicately,
In the silent somberness of my lonely night,
Carefully, with amour,
As not to blemish the purity of white,
I feel your perfect flower,
No petals, just a cornucopia of beauty and delight,
The shape of a Modigliani ballet dancer,
So white, in the blackness of the lonely night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely poem, Sandra. You write of such things with a finesse and beauty beyond my ken.
Very wonderful and encouraging comment. Thank you, Kelly