Ana, Anita, cigarette and smile,
Light coming in, hands long....
What a beauty, that pony,
pony tail...
How sweet that clean look,
How sad to see you suffer.....
Do you know?
So many steps
give you a lot
to think
You got trapped
in my things
And appeared
whenever
I looked up
at the sky.
On the mountain top
you were light coming in,
hands long,
cigarette and smile,
pony, pony tail,
clean look,
clean and sharp.
You were on my paintings
on the wall,
with me
on the edge,
about to fall,
home cooking.
This time
will be
memories of you
Ana, Anita,
the fields
should be
green
by now.
Very beautiful. If I could express the tone of my voice on the internet, here, It would sound much more life-filled than these words sound. They might sound like your poem: like the last stanza. 'the fields should be green by now'...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like your unusual approach in So many steps give you a lot to think You got trapped in my things And appeared whenever I looked up at the sky. On the mountain top I liked your ending best of all. Ana, Anita, the fields should be green by now.