Deepest black to blinding white,
Knifing through darkest night.
Pulsing waves of red wash over
A gentle sprinkling of orange sands,
Glass suns flare briefly yellow
Spilling out of upturned hands,
Streams of amber fade to green,
Fairy gold from faraway dreams,
Porcupine spikes bathed in blue
Then highlighted in a different hue,
Roving beams of indigo gyrate
As wheels turn in skies of violet.
Reflections dance on staring eyes
The silent patter of coloured rain,
Slowly painting memories rags
And colour the world we thought we knew.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem