The fragrant taste of the stars matter
There, where the burning leaves and magnolias go up,
To journey to where, in the smoke of their leaving,
The all-knowing oak is trembling above
And the whiter colors, of the brightest stars
Hanging there thick, in shimmering air,
And the roving eye of the colorless sky
Never fades from the grace of the morning.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Patti, your imagery is pure, and complete, and most of all: BEAUTIFUL! GREAT poem here.