Weaving Brushstrokes blaze the vaulted blue
Hold me in the arms of morning dew
day was in your eyes, covering your gown
no shadows wept to make you ever frown
We layd upon the grass with open ease
Sun inside the tarpaulin sung peace
Her heart was of the sky, boundless and free
Just waiting for the wind to soar and flee
Fleeting was Our love, a summer kind
Briskly among the vines that would not bind
tender is a joy that seeps from the pain
leaving us to become who we are without shame
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem