Little prismatic wing-of-love wings its way back for us all at once to try-and-cocoon-its meaning and discover.
O' what cherished rose petal flower buds with their sunlight's- rubicund-rays will-always-deliver. Yes, a little flight of fantasy, a love that could not sojourn or rest with us or none other apart from Him. When their wings walk on water, their swift-tail-slices the sweet air, and we'll swear his/her soul goes gently there. Through all the wonders of the heavenly world, they'll go gliding together here and there everywhere, elsewhere.
As little cabbage white butterflies
courting in the air in love forever. Prismatic stars do sometimes gaze angrily, and flightless angels shall fervently stare at the vacuum of their worldly unabated care.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem