Art oh, precious it will wither not.
Come and hinder thy thoughts.
The roof of thy mouth is dry and thy lips are cracked from your desperate cry.
Real the beauty of a statue's eyes.
Please the tender redness of thy breath.
Hold part to the painted heavens.
Paint the depths of the black that none can see.
Show yet life and explore with thee.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I gave 10 in rating. Wonderful