I asked of this to my the only daughter.
The lock upon it, I had from then on placed.
Now broken red it's glaring open.
She shows a blind eye loose applied.
The brightest inter, outer money buys.
I bought her from another when
and taught her naught it linger seems.
Mother once she turned away her eye.
Burning turned it on all sides.
From pink to red
and brown again to copper green.
She never cried.
The sun and I and she now free to slow the light of day.
Her hair on fire at night.
She liked the eye of all the eyes of green, I do recall.
She looked me up and down at times like these.
She means to what, such beings sought, will do.
Or
Men of many diffrent colored eyes.
Loved no more between.
Nor heeds the rainbow of his dream.
And where his arrows can not, try to fly.
Alive once dead she finds a way to try.
Men knowing even not,
nor having simple understanding there about.
Of why the wing tips drag.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem