Violets
by Michael R. Burch
Once, only once,
when the wind flicked your skirt
to an indiscreet height
and you laughed,
abruptly demure,
outblushing shocked violets:
suddenly,
I knew:
everything had changed.
Later, as you braided your hair
into long bluish plaits
the shadows empurpled
—the dragonflies'
last darting feints
dissolving mid-air—
we watched the sun's long glide
into evening,
knowing and unknowing...
O, how the illusions of love
await us in the commonplace
and rare
and haunt our small remainder of hours.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem