The days gathering
When I opened my hands
For a thing for you
In both hands
For you to discover
Hope or despair
One is full
One is empty
The cycle of fate
But when you touch
Any of my hands
The hand empty
Is as full
With the diamond of love
Like touch of Midas
Midas of love
Dust in my hands
Shall turn into gold
The gold of love
On the table
The last flickers
Of the candle
My love in prologue
Love we discover
Like wine in slow sips
Like melting candle
Like dinner you serve
21/11/2008
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
‘Touch-Stone’ poem…finely crafted… ‘…Love we discover/Like wine in slow sips…’ inebriation down the spine…with glow of glamor…in the backdropp of zippy debonair...Sir hats off 10. Ms. Nivedita UK