The first time I saw her, i did not marvel
When i saw her face, I did not look any closer
At the time I touched her, I didn't dream
As I stumbled upon her heart, it was the shape of the fruit Adam ate
My eyes came clear, not at once for that to be the difference
I could paint what I can not see, mind
Pictures too hard to be real, dream
Perfect Picture Proper Plane
As I stumbled upon her heart, it was pumping blue
At the time I touched her, the moment was unreal
When I saw her face, I had seen nothing
Every other time I saw, it was prodigious
The canvas i paint on is no-material
The picture of mind i paint is colour less
Then I made my canvas perceived
and the picture of mind substantial
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem