Aye they are both soft and brown.
Above the sky.
Under the moon near the well.
Lashes across the back.
The bloom of orange blossoms.
Blood shot and long.
The eyes young and brown.
Empty the well at present.
Jolted awake, electric lights flash.
Humid depth of summer offers the night.
When they blink like that there,
look the eyes are of beautiful brown.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem