The sun rises on white
A sparkling diamond dawn
Flawless, untouched
Trembling in the cool kiss of breeze.
Can you feel it?
Lush and shyly blossoming
Like the bitten lips of a virgin blush
The palest, softest, sweetest glow.
And then
She grows darker
Wilder
A thorn, and then another
Watered by tears and the bitterness of time
The most irresistible tyrian
The colour of a bloodstained sword
Or a harlot's toga
Stained with spilt blood and broken dreams.
But she is content
The sun sets on red
A violent, passionate twilight
Painted with the balm of love.
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3 comments:
WOW.
This is a very artistic poem.
All the shades and the red in it!
(And Firefox 14 is good at reading Hangul).
I'm glad you like it :). I was very intrigued by the Buyonghwa, and the connection between colour and maturity.
And it can go several ways.
For example: white or yellow when you're young and then darker as you get older.
And seniors have their colours too.
(There's a man named JPW who knows his colours really well).
Could it connect with that "true colour" idea?
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