I'm no poet, i hardly try to be.
For the one i loved, loves poems dearly.
I wish to tell her the tale of my feelings,
as i write it pouring it with my love;
You may laugh reading it,
but it is all i have;
Words to play with day and night,
I love you, so i try;
Though Monologue this communication may be;
it doesn't matter, because it relieves my grievous heart,
To let my feelings goes here floating,
My feelings sublimating through these tiny pieces of lines;
Does it reaches its intended destination, counts not;
I will let myself dream,
that you read it, o loved Angel;
my scrambled lines reaches you,
And i get to stay in your mind, for a minute maybe;
The phrases i write, comes not from my mind,
It is the Soul speaking, as my hand just scribble;
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem