Formal verse depends in part
upon what flows before when mind
weaves new waft on old weft to bind
unique imprints. Hand and heart
spotlight hid angles, shades, impart
fresh perceptions to unwind
conundrums many readers find
inaccessible to chart.
Love of language tears apart
formality, digs deep behind
fine line to draw conclusions signed
in images which ever start
to sketch horizons infinite.
Quest’s laurels rest with insight bright.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Jonathan robin This is a good piece of poetry