Strolling about these days
Dame Spring does one pry
Embroidering. Off each porch,
Rock-piled confines, centipede-stampeded;
Window sill, snail-spry.
Through slick-skilled needling
Takes shape for what's traced
Imperceptively, of last year's
Raised patterns. Azalea's cream-ruffled.
And the Queen Anne-laced.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem