of maunderings...
fretful globulettes stitched
on a field of incantations....
some patches have weathered
the journey...rubiose and madder-limned...
others, faint, their feted grandeur spent,
do no more than suggest their erstwhile blood-fresh colors...
....have lain in the parlor...
sun-tread and burlesqued as langour-laden mementos....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a fantastic composition....well done! ! !