Walk this shore of love with me
This shoreline of elegant dreams
Unconventional like jagged rocks
Underground like a winter spring
Some are hurt and must survive
We are the moral ground
Caught between need and honor
Half moon out my window
It is late and you haunt me
Keats knew he was dying
I visited his grave in Rome
Buried by noble Shelley
Poets are troubled waters
Poets are roses in love
Perhaps we shall never meet
Our words like satin sheets
I am in love with you
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem