The forest runs for miles and miles.
Her moon the face it slips right over me.
The portrait of a lady sitting I help down.
Mourning ebbs the tide.
Moving earth and stripping trees of leaves.
Bushes where I learned not burnt.
and useless clouds are judged unnecessary.
Because my pleasure even now you swell, I aged.
A sea of milk mistaken as.
The breast it's tip is but a hill of grace now dry.
The verdict of our death, her milk the sea it knows.
I wish to see a humming bird to hear it's song I speak
against the love of daddies little girl.
Humming her sweet song a song that's better sweet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'I wish to see a humming bird to hear it's song I speak against the love of daddies little girl. Humming her sweet song a song that's better sweet.' This part really struck me as something beautiful, but I loved it all. Very wonderful, great images, and word trickery, haha.