Translucent flesh
is swept with
feathery wisps
of a paintbrush,
like tongues
upon a flawless canvas.
The figures,
on this ivory sheet stretched taut
glow... as my masterpiece
straddles atop hardened contours.
My brazen fingers rove along
the supple, lithe limbs,
the smooth curves that fill my vision.
I am lost in the silhouettes
of my making.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
truly the earth's greatness, indeed.