Tu es venu de l'Aztecs avec un cuivre sur vos avant-bras plus fauves qu'un coucher du soleil disant bon-par un fleuve gal.
Et j'ai dit, tu te rappelles, ces avant-bras vous taient plus bons que les bronzes et toi tais heureux.
Il tait des larmes et un chemin occidental et maison-aller quand j'ai demand pourquoi il y avait des cicatrices d'or us o l'anneau d'un homme tait fixe par le pass sur votre troisime doigt. Et je t'appelle pour revenir avant les jours suis plus long.
Volunteers needed to translate poetry into different languages. Please help us correct the translation of these poems. We currently have 79,663 translations and are trying to create the largest and most accurate database of world poetry translations. We have started with machine translations which are very inaccurate. Please translate your favorite poem on this site. You will be given credit for your translation and a link to your site if desired. COPYRIGHT NOTICE: These poems have been gathered and submitted by many of people, and from many sources. Most have no copyright. However, some may may have copyrights. We have tried to collect poems that appear on many external sites where the author seems to want to disseminate. If you are an author and do not want your poetry translated into other languages then send a removal request and it will be promptly removed.