Her beauty is as lines laid on my soul
As found revealed beyond the reach of time;
So subtle, fate's perfection draws me whole
As powerless I cling to her design.
Whatever whim she wishes plans my quest,
Whatever deed she deigns fuels my desire,
Tormented in my sleep; I may not rest,
While love consumes my dreams in temper's fire.
Razed to my knees I raise my head and gasp,
That yearning should present and like withhold
So fine and fleeting form slipped from my grasp;
Now held in mind what was once held in world.
Her beauty is as lines laid on my soul,
To bid my poem should pen no coarser goal.
-September 27-29,2005
Well, you have done it again...it is awesome...your work! Breathtaking! Theodora Onken
This is absolutely wonderful, David! Your rhymes are perfect and all is well-said. Raynette
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Excellent, mon ami! Sincerement, R.