My life is a Corinthian acanthus leaf
On an intricately carved classic column
Enchanted pellucid palace
Silent opaque sandglass
On an amethyst shelf
Byzantine transition
From circle to sphere.
My works are gothic objects
Frail violins
Of crystal madrigals
Bizarre rococo laces
In a darkly rich coloured interior
And sometimes as I stare at them
They are strange and unknown to me
Like my own hand and fingers
At three o'clock A.M.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Paul there's an unbelievable amount of imagery Here I'm overwhelmed. Beautiful piece of work sir: thank you for this poem.