unformed and anonymous
urgently pinched in waves of finned dispersion
a distant face streaming slowly apart
in the slumping waves of a forgotten pond
a thin river
dry Ophelia, unsure where to fade
carrying bouqets neither real nor artificial
symbiotic petals
christening a sleeping sea with
clear blushes even you don't understand
dry as the brush you were painted with
still not knowing as your sharp cheeks strike the
canvas
my dry Ophelia
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful deep write and evocative thought.10