Sarah D
We met for second time
-she killed me with her knives
-of melted emerald in eyes' pots;
-colourful were flames on the rise,
-saw sun-rays in green-red and white.
We spoke soft and long, of the love,
-lovely were words' flakes, engraved.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thanx for sharing... Nice poem nice write... Keep it up... Naila
Thank you Naila for the reading and the comment and sorry if I am late.