Crinoline Vermeer with eternal folds
Golden silk with burgundy embroidery
Stone hallways clap like Hiroshima
Dreams soft forged in Moloch fears
Cotton slaves rise into Borg columns
Streams of love grow along my soul
Is it only a storm or really the end?
What ever it is I love you
What ever it is I dream of you
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem