Evadne of Thrace
Out on the faraways of spring,
nimbus become his sky passage,
marginal trips fulfill his dreams,
his bike's tuned up in clouds' garage.
He rides on slope t' orrow bethel,
man's sanctum soul in cold embrace,
R-six steel block roars on methyl,
engage onto Mountainous Thrace.
On wet asphalt Metzelers hold,
titanic torque challenges death,
on border life and Thracian wold,
in Belstaff thinks not of digress.
The metal knee cups spark on ground,
snow flakes on his full face Shoei,
steep slopes resend untamed the sound,
and thousand cubic mean strings play!
Evadne of Thrace, and Strymon God,
accented verses' bestows badge,
amid the mists archaic bode,
his bike's tuned up in clouds' garage.
And there she waits betrothal rain,
Metzelers hold, that smile in air,
her whisper tracks, divine refrain,
as snow flakes lace the Thracian fare.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Added by Poetry Lover
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