Her hair, striving the southern wind
Her eyes, dazzling the feathered breeze
Luminous for, every chivalrous keen
Lovable for, every rightful ease.
She looked at me with transparent wishes
Tapping my shoulder with rigid unseen
I love her not? God shall be the witness
Until I died, stopped, and finally clean.
Alex Jhon
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem