some flink and squorl...aspire to be a queen....
whilst others love to play...carouse.... unseen....
well...mainly, for the some-time joy of it....
that spotted light's no place for those sans grit.....
what do we know of paths, pursuing truth....
for me, please ladle liberal lobs of ruth....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like how your poems portray much meaning in a small space - SG