While a process is being made,
Of decorating, and uttering proper words;
Thousands and thousands of words left unsaid...
The letters disintegrated,
Fall apart and smashed,
On the rocks of courtesy and manner;
Besieged by the rules of linguistics and grammar.
In the maze of our robotic words,
Nothing true,
Nothing straight,
Nothing sparkling,
Nothing ours,
Of a life whose bunch of
Feeling-knead letters
Melt on the tongue of fear.
Regressed and suffocated,
The words degenerated,
Only backgrounding;
No music...no tunes...
No meaning...no foregrounding...
No feelings reflected...
No heartfelt desires recuperated...
From the hyphenation
Of words-feelings,
Outward-inward conversation.
Loudly speak the words!
To the deafening waves of the other side
of the ocean.
The armless ship,
Paddling alone,
Reaches no shore, but that of raveled passions;
Lamenting 'I love you, '
That hides behind the tongue;
Mourning 'I need you, '
That fades away in an evanesced hug.
Struggling the yawns of drowsiness.
The pillow embraces the fugitive's destination,
Where the cloud of the unsaid words
Rains...and shots a glance of life...
In a dream...
The long-awaited fingers caressing thy hair...
In a dream...
And the infinity of words speak out the loquacious heart
In a dream
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem