in the blue mists of morning,
the bright leaf-greens of midday,
the sungolds of late afternoon,
and the silver-moon shadows of the night
and we will dance
like butterflies unfolding the splendour of their wings
like yellow-billed kites delighting in the thermals
like homing hadedahs and their haunting calls
like swanlake lovers last pas de deux’s...
dance till we drop,
and have to part again,
with sad eyes sighing,
till the next time
we meet in the garden of our dreams...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem