She was wearing the coral taffeta trousers
Someone had brought her from Ispahan,
And the little gold coat with pomegranate blossoms,
And the coral-hafted feather fan;
But she ran down a Kentish lane in the moonlight,
And skipped in the pool of the moon as she ran.
She cared not a rap for all the big planets,
For Betelgeuse or Aldebaran,
And all the big planets cared nothing for her,
That small impertinent charlatan;
But she climbed on a Kentish stile in the moonlight,
And laughed at the sky through the sticks of her fan.
Such a true personal poem through another fictive person, this is the true attitude of the passioante poetess, I like all her poems very much and know her poems and personal historty too well.5 Stars! Congratulations on being chosen as The Classic Poem Of The Day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Perfect! ! !