Late afternoon shadows;
Clouds are hurrying towards
The far horizon.
Dying piano note,
A plaintive ghost.
Ripples of escaping sunlight,
Cavorting thru the open spaces.
The princess who lives here
Wandering thru the maze of chambers
Touching things absently.
A reliquary of once loved
Playthings, lies forgotten.
A wispy spindle of melancholy clings,
Silkens, and follows her movements.
Then starts up the low rushing wind,
At first just a breeze, but
Becoming fiercer by degree
Finding its way to the entrance-
Where nothing else could ever pass before:
She has eaten the pomegranate seed
The enchantment is irreversible;
A child spirited into
Deeper substrates of being.
She has lost the old kingdom
But she will rule in the next.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem