Everything she touches turns to perfection
the bliss of the tatters being turned to new beautiful perception of life’s sorrows changing to compassion.
how she longs for her Mona Lisa “ where is my muse? ” she asked “my inspiration to create has turned into a longing to breath life where is my Dionysus? ”
I have finally arrived because you gave me life and death is no concern of mine
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Context takes on a foward attitude