a gentle wafting felt lightly on the surface of waters
that rage, giving vent to each other on corrugations
the waxing seems like a sinewy release
the waning an ebb upon her fortunes
this mistress of mine is elusive, receding cleverly
as no grasp of mine can hope to possess
for even the briefest of moments
all I've wont to have happen is to borne into
her bosom of tender yet lackadaisical whimsy
and I have been mesmerized for as long as I can remember,
why, so many bridges have gone past, along with
all the water that has flowed beneath 'em
why, azure she is and sea-green at other times
prancing capricious and always beyond my reach
come to think of it, I'd have it no other way
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem