A hymn trapped in the wind
after countless Sunday morning mantra, 
heckling me until losing a piece of soul.
My unpurged confession appearing finally in epitaph.
(unabridged, first edition, unsigned, un-numbered) .
The words surviving the censure of seasons
For I loved you like a horse wimpering in pain
for its abusive owner; 
the saxophone of your voice affecting
our planetary alignment.
I loved you, your disaffected love 
of everything not me. And so I wandered 
up a hill to hide-only every seasonal storm
had found me, leaving me 
more damaged than before.
Weathering poorly as a pupil fearful
of learning one last time,  I embraced 
the forbidden spokes of the unruly
despite the fact I loved you 
when the wind rose up to a funnel in a cloud
of grey dominion- and our town stood still.                
A complex poem about a complex relationship. Your language was imaginative and original as were your thoughts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                     
                
What an excellent write! Gray has its decisive moment in the last line of your powerful poem. Warm regards, Sandra