In its trance, weak yet strong
Lost in the addictions of maybe
Awake to the aroma of possibilities
In a state of confused consciousness
When love arrived
With its celestial presence
Not blinded by its promises
Aware to realities trespassing
And chose to remain in its nativity
When love arrived
Rare in its form and shape
Fluffy, putty, gentle and thorny
With no sense of direction
It stopped, paused a while, and refused to leave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem