I will always stand at the porch,
Sipping your thought like hot morning coffee,
Undress myself as few drop spill by,
Yet gazing through the prism of your heart to refract light to mine,
Brewing those words with a pot on my soul,
Standing sure till the day of your appearing,
Crossed out with the Cross.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem