Dancing names and swirling fingers
Many orange glow faces
Pondering the rhythm of reality
Chasing dreams with desire
While the burst burning of embers
Ignite in tribal celebration
Most have only dreamt of
All eyes watch floating ash
Spiral down to cool inspiration
A thick grey cloud
Riding the early spring breeze
Transgressing wild imagination
As it rolls across
a dark rocky field of
Dead billowing grass
Quietly lying under
A spring star sky
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I have to second Joe's sentiments. Also, i thought you got out of the gat nicely with the first few lines. The first line itself is gold. Congrats on a good write.