I'm always fascinated
That at times
I can pen up a poem
Within those precious, quick moments
That a sylph does breathe it's whispers into itself
While during other moments
I can stare, hours, eons
blankly at a sheets blue horizon
and be consumed by its nothing
When it's I who should be consuming it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem