Sliding softly past the painful scars—
the shimmering covering she shakes out,
formerly folded on the shelf far above
Wear it, love.
Woefully whispered into the veil, white—
some secrets sister had stored out
of sight, like that silken scarf freshly found
and unbound.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What smooth pleasure silk covering regards when they hide and comfort rough painful scars. Enjoyed the read, nicely written.