There is a river running through every woman
often it is mingled in dreams
cries and longings
the childhood adulthood parenthood
she goes through the roles
efficiently beautifully
even lovely like a machine
well oiled never cries that much
or whimpers loudly
just sighs
audible to one self, never over selfed,
correct measures,
gathering every spoonful of tears
dreams wishes mixed together
every woman creates her own
small universe in herself
and makes time
butterflies in her
a river of dreams
unending
always flowing....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautiful poem, Daisy. Thanks for sharing.