In the beckoning it was she,
happy at sea,
riding waves of soft shaded pink.
A sharp sting of red, witness,
made me breath.
Left a print now all see.
She is, a rain bow twisted in saffrons ink
trailing shades a,
All colors vary,
as would the ink that made her..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem