And shall we weave our magic here?
Bespell with words all painting pictures,
carving gentle bas relief against the sky
with cloud trail telling secrets?
Our souls are full,
would speak to fill the world
with words uncluttered
by the hearts and flowers
stopping up our mouths
would sing the harmony of love
so pure, so stripped
down to the bone
it shines with eldritch fire,
could start a conflagration
right across the world,
touched to the fuse of hope
for peace if we could let our souls
sing for a minute...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem