Two natural arts conflate, boundless, she gleamed,
Wind in her hair locks, the evening hues on her flesh,
Where does that boundary end, where does it start,
A world within a life, blooming across the horizon,
Rise, oh rise, the epitome of creation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Welcome to Poem Hunter Vocal Stains. In fact I do not like pseudonyms There are too many, but now I only wish to say Hello, Welcome on Poem Hunter Poems Site, to you Vocal Stains.