Like sculpture at first. Then, as if the sun rose in her, long
gesture.
A small smile; then very much so.
The beauty
of the rite shone; whirling.
She whirled and whirled,
flaming.
Only the body spoke. The body carried her
language.
Her dance a spell
swirling the air, a spiral she was
and
her shawl, the half circle around her,
the curve of the sea-shore and
girl,
the dancer and the dance apart…
(Trascreated by Cathy Strisik and Veronica Golos based on Katalin N. Ullrich's translation.)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem