If it isn't ours Poem by Hanny Michaelis
If it isn't ours
If it isn't ours
I don't want it, this spring
with its spring-tide of light,
its splash of colours.
The bronze clouds, luxuriantly
stacked against flaming blue,
the trees flecked with the
finest green, motionless
in the dove-grey evening,
and the opal smile of rainbows
encompassing the globe
are wasted
on me solo.
Translation: 2009, Judith Wilkinson
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
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4/24/2024 6:51:36 AM # 1.0.0.1119
