When the sky
is tinged with pink
that blends
with the red
variegated with orange
and a veil of azure
wets
the purple contours
of long
shapeless stripes
of ultramarine blue
which lose themselves
in the white
of our
dreams.
That's it,
those
are our sunsets.
The sunsets
of January.
3.1.'10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem