Now fades the glimmer landscape
From your sight
Solomon stillness water holds
Some of those will feel
Water weight the hopeless wings
A drowning flight
Quench the blush
Ingeanious shame
In the inevitable hour
To last call
The lark is dieing.
Quench the blush...so tranquil, the poem is surreal...Beau-ti-ful.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This has the sweet scent of an autumn dirge, a darkly portrait of the bitter seasons, a great portrait of language. This is stellar work.