He saw her pass by
Crossing with familiar rush
A figure moving in strobe
A tree stripped bare in the Fall
Like watercolor blotting badly
Rouge melting showing skin
Is that she? He asked
Surely, not she, he thought
There unmasked in stark light
He loved her truly
They all did, too
Who asked you? said she
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
bonne poeme monsieur! tres tres imaginatif! excellent! ~ Hazel G.E