a pair of phantom right palms
spread out with mute benediction
showered icicle blessing on the
rising sun in the earth of obscure love
T.S.Eliot and Robert Browning
patted on one square shoulder
when William Blake was sternly frowning
and W.B.Yeats was curtly smiling
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem