Two color's of white be they true, such are dreams
Of my dreams, in other people heads,
Be they awake and not dead, though they are.
As truely, watching the sun walk on by.
Two color's of black as it rises, high to the sun.
It will be as hot as growing nears, yet colder still.
As tears on an upside down mask one hides, not hides
But still as still can cause it to rain.
Wating Still.. oil or Gel.. iip
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem