Fingers, searching constantly
for something I cannot feel, but see.
Eyes, so bright and blue,
uniting with my own emerald hue.
Mouth, forming words that I like to hear,
imprinted-they do not disappear.
Ears, tinged with red,
at the sound of the compliment you just said.
Nose, with no relent,
longing for that perfect scent.
Heart, for it senses too,
beats faster at the sight of you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem