Bodies getting smaller as they pass like strange
Calligraphy out of hand;
And maybe I can’t understand any other world than this,
But when I take Alma by the hand,
And show her the blue resilience emolliating in
A sheet of feral angels off to the left;
It is all I need:
I ungreedily drink of the light her brown eyes sip;
And I compare her to the ocean and say,
This is exactly how beautiful you are, as we drive on
To the duny park to swing in the playgrounds
That will soon no longer be there.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your alma is a lucky lass, to have so many beutifull words sung from the heart of a lovesick poet!