From lips terse she would declare
Harsh words that brought despair;
Likened to winter's willful wind,
Her purpose to crassly cut, to rend,
To slice headlong through my heart.
No straighter path could she chart.
Coldly, she acted her plan of pain.
To this end, she would not wane
As she voiced each callous remark
Like chilling winds in winter's dark
Void of feeling, remorse, or care—
A love disparaged in the frigid air.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
RB, I usually don't like rhyming poems because too often the syntax has to be scewed to make the rhyme work. This poem is pretty skillful, but Line 8 exposes the problem with writing formal poems. If you have time, check out my new website: jeffersoncarterverse.com Tell me how you like it. Yrs, JC
Jefferson, thanks for your kind comment about the writing. I am taking note of your concern regarding line 8, and will study it further with the intent to modify. Thank you for bringing your observation to my attention. Best regards!