Flickering, shining, little tremors,
on the land of my heart, brief showers,
I'm obsessed with little now,
I'm afraid, greyed by a little more.
Jealous of bees, when it rains heavily,
the sky dressed, scantily, yet merrily,
a little of grey satiates the heavens,
and the glances of sun, satiate me.
You must be drenched too, 'tis rain,
desire, to touch every pearl,
along the way somewhere, where sky meets heaven,
briefly though, it must've met you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
something tells me there is a good (for me) poem hidden here, but i can't seem to be sure i am following your thoughts. it has something to do, i'm sure, with the punctuation.........so many commas! and maybe too few periods. i don't know. are you talking about a deceased love who is now in or near heaven? ? ? maybe i should just accept the poem as it is. if i just listen to its sound and not try to understand it....like music when i don't listen to or comprehend the lyrics...i do like it. and the thing about BEES intrigues me but is a mystery to me. thanks for sharing.