Your heart speeds up you cannot speak,
You feel a fever in your brain.
You notice your pores have sprouted leaks,
You feel you've gone insane.
There's a lump inside your throat,
There's a weakness in your knees.
There is a vision on which you dote,
That on your heart holds a lease.
There's only time, cause there is no cure,
For symptoms that vex you so.
But for the short term they will endure,
As surely as the wind does blow.
The fever will break, the leaks will cease,
Sanity will return as does the breeze.
9/26/11 Alton Texas
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like your poetry, your sonnets especially. I've never been good at them, but you've got a real talent. I suppose practice is key, I'm sure you've had a lot of it. I'm guessing this comment will be gone soon though, I at least hope you'll enjoy it for a little while.