Travel with me pretty maiden
That skies may speak our mother-tongue
Hold my hand a little,
For when men close their eyes
What do they see, but beauty
That shades past faint graffiti
Travel with me blossoming rose
That waters may find that tranquility
That the rumbling of skies, the thirsty of the sun
May find it all in your bright small eyes
Sojourn with me that birds my whisper your name
Lurid lights fail to twinkle
Dawn fails to yawn the sun
And the dusks cannot brush off the sun
Unless you smile, torment me not
And travel with me little maiden
©ssekajja.k.ronald 2012
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem