on the wings of a cold
Winter's wind
en route of
the dragon-fly's flight
she was caught dreaming
in the mistiness of inexperience
like a stray insect
roaming slowly
on her slipshod
shuffle in the air
above muddy waters
and clear little inlets
and if innocence
is beautiful
innocence is vulnerable
on two thin wings
and much is said
about people-loving people
and can you get anything more white
than these people in popular flight
but for her the mistakes of inexperience
brought almost death
in Winter's translucent wind
a bitter cold wind
for in maturity the ant-lion wears
the mask of the dragon-fly's flairs
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem