She had a dream
of no one
meeting memory
beside a pool
of mystery.
There, in the nakedness
of invisibility
they did bathe,
enslaved
and untouching
in the vapours
of a heated day.
Sight was destined
to shimmer
as a mirage
of golden play.
Waf
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem