The wind whispers her name,
Softly spoken,
Fearing that the delicate darlings beauty may be marred,
“Amaranthine”, “Amaranthine”, awaken it’s time,
These words land on kind ears.
Neither loss nor lack in grace, she rises,
Like the sun, she commands natures respect,
Angels delight at the sight of such a vision, overhead,
Fusions of blue, blonde, white and red
Lovingly create this creature, whom can resist?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem