Yellow lotus petals dance on ripples of reflecting pool
in garden of the seventh moon
under silver starred sky, geisha sit neath tree of
raining blossoms caught by jasmine scented breeze
Whispers like sweet song of nightingale spring
from perfect lips as tiny hands tell story of passing day
almond eyes smile and cover faces with paper fan
Crushed ivory silk of robes rustle as maidens shuffle
to footpath bridge where painted birds trapped in
rice paper lanterns sing unnoticed in the silent
winds of an Oriental night..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A richly embroidered poem, delicately interwoven with colourful pictures that come alive. I love it. Ten to you.