Most like to wipes it, is on some thing,
other than it's selve, sore thigh your yet
Instead it, is
it's blood upon you float, not touching.
It's stain is it, upon the air, around it.
When you, it's color changes, it
is, it's robes, gold then melts the heart
of quicksilver, this river to sun is run,
when tips of lead it knew, has Bloom's.
Sometimes you make sense and sometimes you pull the leg, why speak always in riddles, is it a fantasy tickle? Is it really poetry? A good choice of words. Regards
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I don't think Ejaz Khan got the message here. The poem is surreal in its form, but makes sense to me. This is what it is like when love lies bleeding. Of course love may lie bleeding for many reasons though. It could be a failed relationship, it could be the death of a dear loved one, it could even be that a suitor was spurned by love. Whatever the reason, this is a very good message for the reader to ponder. Of course many will interpret this in different ways. But it is a good write. A 10+++++ and thank you for sharing. Love & hugs, Barbara