</>There is an undulating sea,
Where the debris of the heavens are clad with savvy,
And your image, a flame burning at the middle of the sea,
Where the threading silhouettes bawl over me
You are gone, and the truth stifles more than it calms
For the waves of every memory merge with the monsoon,
As it claims all of me: the luster of my eyes, the warmth of my skin,
The vim of my breath, the subtleness of my light-trampling-
Aghast, all is lost – I gasp, in the winter’s frost
Now everything subsides in the subterfuge of the sea,
I search for you in this vast sea of women: Ballerina toes,
Thin, paper-like lips of pale crimson, hushed breath of resilient hair,
Debonair strut, sharp and misleading eyes, all of you –
And how fortunate that sometimes, I seem to make out your lips:
Thin, sapid with the scent of mint and tulips,
But how unfortunate, I lose you in the lucidity of your very vision
Transposed to another woman
You slice along the borders of my skin,
You are fulminating like the moon,
You are bright like the scarring stars at night,
And you are pristine, like the clear waters at dawn and dusk of summer,
I float along your waters, astride
And all at once, everything was lost.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Windsor What a fantastic poem