White
silk scarf
waves
in her
wake - the train
of her
gown.
Crossing
fields of wheat,
her feet are scorched
by flames of
sunset.
She
escapes.
Fly away
if love
is
a gold
cage.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Simply stunning! The waltz wave form really suits the subject matter - the shape of the poem weaves a shimmering trail of literary beauty, much like the 'white silk scarf' S :)