I don't know if a need for red
and for gold
for fringed silk
and dangling feathers
spangled
swirling fragrances
and the radiant glories
of importantly immaculate costumery
shall be a parade
and a pageant I'll desire when at that edge
or if I shall join
a miniature
though equally deliberate march
with many other indras
scenting a picnic
the scout has signaled 'sugar cookies'
tall blades shall be no more obstacular than were
other portions of this dance
in purple and green and yellow....sequins and fragile implements
tensile
and full with song
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem