golden ripples slowly sway
toward my feet
where awaiting bubbles burst
like humming angels
calling to the setting sun with
each gentle pop
within a swooning mirror
framed by wild grass and reeds
a self-portrait of beauty
these graceful depths
of golden ripples
who slowly sway
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Frostesque sprinklings here...Effulgent imagery...Smooth flux...Solid Write, Wes. FjR