but there come
the seconds as they pass by
on a pavement
among snow-drifts
with price of steaming recovery
on a window
with a finger
I draw
a circle and
two points
under which
slowly
I bend
a stripe.
Between us it still is
a long bit of eye-lace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such a lovely write, Lucia... a fine poem.....