Scattered showers
streamed heavily upon the jowl
perched
at the windowsill
staring out
witnessing an illusory form,
such immanence within
such an idyllic being
stripped,
wallow in a mud pool
bereft
bellowing a tune
pitter patter
the ear lobe gather
ceasing slowly
wiping mascara
off her guile face.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem