He blocked out the parts of her that made his mind spin,
Her thoughts, actions, the way she perceived the world- they were incomprehensible to him,
All he saw was the alluring and familiar simplicity of her eyes,
She was a novel; he bothered to read only the first sentence,
She was a wildfire; he burned himself on the weakest of her embers,
He couldn't see past her face, therefore put a limit on her beauty,
Without knowing, he had taken the brilliance of the entire west coastline and condensed it to a dirty puddle
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem