Like a moth, I am drawn to the light
as it leans against the window ledge.
I dream to hold what I have no right
that beckons beyond the outer edge.
I flutter my wings in sweet rejoice
wanting to shatter the window pane
as it muffles the sound of your voice,
and I wish to bring it home again.
You read Baudelaire by candlelight.
“Sadness rises in me like the sea, ”
who loves you more than I have the right
when your love was not destined for me.
I fall down in faint of love and shame,
my wings waving one final farewell,
and smolder in sonnets of your name
that cause my frangible heart to swell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem