In claws of night a dark alley
I move in search in moon so pale
It was in here she died you see
All love was lost I lost Rochelle
And here comes out a white
madam
when wandering creatures go to
bed
Her puffs and powder seem so
glum
as if replacement of the dead
The face, the glimpse in dim, the
smell
arrest me with a mastery
Rochelle Rochelle and more Rochelle
the more I think the more I see.
My eyes, they sense beyond and
through
I hold her close behind her door
then faintly kiss her palm or two
and she in turn whispers
'summore'
I stare at her as if I must
beneath her breath enough's
been said
Rochelle di'nt know a thing of lust
and mortals can replace a dead
To love again would mean no
harm
the time was now to end the trail
I ask the name of girl in charm
and there she laughs and says
'Rochelle'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem