That swayed among invisible boughs
Some barren ink spilled the paper was mute
But she never cried never over that
Environments white long chased through the woods
Landscapes horizons the measure of a flight
She leafed through the words
To see what’s between them
The links and borderline chimes -oh yes -she sang
In silence as the forests were deaf
But she never cried never over that
She set a grave stone mark a life sworn token
Resting its heights on impossibility costs
Because
She lived in the mountains
And slipped through its fangs
The sharp ice air to breathe
She begged by water fountains
The richest being in rags
A child with wind to conceive
©Miroslava Odalovic
Man, you really said it here. The wind has so many illegitimate children..oops, I am about to give birth to another poem (smile) . Beautiful job.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This was stunning. Full of brilliant and vivid words that flow through the mind like paintings. I love it.