The long, willowy-dressed silhouettes in the greenery
Of the hushed, lethargic square, above the dell,
Cradles a cadence which wafts through the darnel,
Of yesteryear, of a breeze-caressed harmony.
The Gallacian sunset, where church bells knell,
In the soft damask of the shimmering sky
Brings her face to my mind, her lips to my eye,
As the red sun morphs into a bright pastel.
And the deluge of emotion
Which rises from the distant ocean
Leaves me dumb, speechless and shaking;
All my heart is wistful, pale and aching,
As the sun sheds its wine over the mountain,
And the courtyard sighs in the jets of a fountain.
~ John Lars Zwerenz
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow! Only the second piece of work that I've read from you so far but I can't wait to get to the rest! This poem is so beautiful. You have so much talent. Thank you for Sharing your gift with the world!