Like taking the streetcar down the city road magical*

Almost like a flick, whence one appears seized
By the moment of seeing, a canvas meticulous, spread wide ,
All over the Sky, not knowing whether,
The feather of Love where got flowing,
Catching the sweet breeze of the spring summer day,

One be comes fully blown,
Out pouring of words thence,
Comes spontaneous,
Like fingers running relentless,
Typing on and on, without pains,
Frenzied poetic a State, so Blessed
By Thine, Venus, perhaps , Thou hath
Somehow come, upon my fingers, like a balm,

Otherwise, how is it possible,
i , watch the scene, an Oriental form,
Done by Cao, so heartful, so young,
Pushing me, by Art Thine,
To find the ways of the road, not labyrinthine,
But wavy, running down, from one end to another,

O Venus, how Thou hath put my heart
Into my fingers!

How i see, magical, a street car,
(Was it named Desire?)
Going down, like a memory lane,
So filled with magical wand, wonderous,
As if i have gone down the rabbit hole,
And arrived to a different World , Another,

(Just like that feather white, that came dropping onto me once)

O Venus, You must have worked on
That artist Oriental, doing intricate weaving,
By simply brushing paints and colors not stopping,

Through that road , right at the heart of the city,
Glowing by lights, lamps, shades of buildings ,
How riding almost just behind,
That street car,
(Was it named Desire?)
I my childhood beautifully find.

(*Note: upon a painting done with meticulous perfection, by Cao Young, courtesy : Alex Artista, Musica Pittura e Dintorni)


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