fingers of the fist
clenched tight-
the fingers of youth
spread wide upon
dusty back
of jet black raven.
the fingers have
no feeling!
until they touch
the wind;
and the wind
only races
through a
finger or two!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the fingers have no feeling! until they touch the wind; and the wind only races through a finger or two! very original way of presentation. a very good poem dear poetess Dorsey. thank u. tony