What We May Call This
© Cyril Wong
Holding each other's gazes like lonely hands across a field of dark, we may call this love for the crippling inability to define this, as our solitudes rise and fall like wings on a single butterfly, each destination in time a gratifying flower.
My valentine I give you my hand drawn red rose.
It will always be in blossom
and never to drop a single petal.
You can take anywhere
it needs no water or special care.
Its ever living never dying
as my... LOVE!
Te souviens-tu de la soirée
où l’on a dîné tranquillement dans le faubourg
Saint-Denis , sous la lune toujours moirée
dont le silence resplendit dès aujourd'hui d'amour?
 Il s'agit du faubourg Saint-Denis à Montréal,
Translation into "literal" English prose
Do you recall the evening
 I am referring to quartier Saint-Denis in Montréal, not in Paris.
Transliteration into English Verse
Do you as well as I recall the night
Last word from the Editor (not entered in contest)
I always loved kisses,
Recommended Poems for Romantics:
"Bianca Among The Nightingales" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
"Black Marigolds" translated from Sanskrit by E. Powys Mathers.
"Venus and Adonis" by William Shakespeare
"The Song of Solomon" - anonymous - The Bible
"Because The Body Is A Flower" - Barbara Crooker (Nov. '99 Poetry L&T)
- and just about anything written by William DeVault, featured this issue...
NEW - by Sara L. Russell & Patricia DiMiere:
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