I watch from my eyes,
Like a dream,
It is a dream,
And I move slowly.
I kiss her,
And I do not even know who she is,
She is a mark of mystery.
It only intrigues me,
Drawing me to her memory of the future,
Like a moth to the flame.
It may be the death of me,
Or the Life and love.
So I wait,
And I may see the love to be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem