Love has a Southern flavor: honeydew,
ripe cantaloupe, the honeysuckle's spout
we tilt to basking faces to breathe out
the ordinary, and inhale perfume...
Love's Dixieland-rambunctious: tangled vines,
wild clematis, the gold-brocaded leaves
that will not keep their order in the trees,
unmentionables that peek from dancing lines...
Love cannot be contained, like Southern nights:
the constellations' dying mysteries,
the fireflies that hum to light, each tree's
resplendent autumn cape, a genteel sight...
Love also is as wild, as sprawling-sweet,
as decadent as the wet leaves at our feet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very impressive write, Michael Burch. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.