The Lonely Potter...
With the topsoil,
With his moistened hands,
He moulded her,
With his tact and gentleness...
The soil,
Prudent with the water,
Endures the grime,
Of its own shadow...
And,
Sat on a pottery wheel,
To be fragile and wispy,
Explored her soul as a parasol...
Now,
With her fine clay,
Merges with him,
To see the artist,
The master of her presence....
@ Ami J
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
beautiful allegorical lines with a deeper subliminal message...liked