Lingering like delicate webs
in a lavender twilight, on the west side
of night down back alleys, a mendicant,
A scarfed pale beauty with silver looped earrings,
waiting on a windowless corner
with breeze ballets of old paper
and cigarette butts dancing,
dancing in the wind-spun eye of the moon.
Rozz 2001
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem