Meta-Morphing Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka
Meta-Morphing
Under my gaze
Your stanzas writhe in
The steaming hot weather.
But it's between the lines
Like a Sahara mirage
Where true meaning resides.
And if your poem
Doesn't stir the sands
It is kissing a Muse of silica
Until I whip a quill
And dip it in the inkwell
Of the firmament
And daub secreting love
Feather to cloud
Cloud to feather
Revamping each
Into a marble butterfly
Or myself into a falcon
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/8/2024 2:27:04 PM # 1.0.0.1119
