Lingering like delicate webs 
in a lavender twilight, on the west side 
of night down back alleys, a mendicant, 
A scarfed pale beauty with silver looped earrings, 
waiting on a windowless corner 
with breeze ballets of old paper 
and cigarette butts dancing, 
dancing in the wind-spun eye of the moon.
Rozz 2001                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem