Black is everything,
Yet nothing.
Black is absence,
Still presence.
Black is the night,
When the moon is on the hide.
Black is the soul,
When love is no more.
Black are the eyes,
I wander, if something is under disguise...
Black and white,
White and black,
Non-colours they say,
But are the ones that most people like.
Black is?
Black it is...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A new way of looking at 'Black and white, , , , White and black.... Non-colours they say'. This is such a lovely treatment of the subject. Thanks, Stefan.