Through the broken hedges
A style is realised
And a word alone
And a gap noticed
And leaves left by leaves
And a field beyond
And not without style
And choice of image
And with a wood style
A photo if captured
Invaded by the past
Can now never quicken
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This one is psychotic, and I love that about it. It's like we're spying on the neighbor or something.Love your style.