I do not want to see more of your beauty
It’s something I cannot have
And please, no more of your kind words
As a poultice or a salve
I long for things that will not be
My heart is wretched in its want
The love so great, at times I cannot see
In memory it will forever haunt
So like prose I read someplace
In dreams perhaps I’ll find
Your vision, your beauty, waiting there
Your hand outstretched to mine
And walk through softly lit carpets of
Leaves, grass and flower
And petals bloom their beautiful tale
Uplifted for rains next shower
Perhaps I’ll die and stay right there
In dreams, never to awake
For sorrow it is in waking hours
Your rejections you ever make…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem