If my soul reflects yours
all doubts will it transcend
extending infinity with our passion.
created in common
this love filament binds us
stretched but never torn
its shadows of ardor
silhouette and drench us with elated bliss
this love is a canvas painted in pairs
embroidered with imagination.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Eila: Good but beware of too many abstract terms such a 'soul, ' 'passion, ' 'ardor, ' 'imagination, ' etc. Without a concrete reference, they mean little. Modern poetry prefers concrete images, which, according to T.S. Eliot, it's the only way to elicit emotion. Best, Martin