Here flies the dust, condensed darkness here,
Whose shadow comes up home from the ancient pond
Her face lowered, eyes wet with tears, hands trembling
Yet, each moment seems to be the first and colorful
Thousand pairs of lips she has
Where should I kiss?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow metaphorical and figurative. The phrasing is very impressive. Kudos. Nice to read from u again, pls do comment my latest poem on eclipse too.