Roses Red

Wind themselves around my lance severe.

Through white woods of lilies
Snorts my stallion.
Out of emerald lakes,
Reeds in hair,
Slender, veilless virgins rise.
I ride as I were bronze.


Ever,
Hard before me,
Flies the Phœnix bird,
Translation: 
Language: 
Author of original: 
Arno Holz
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.