As I stop to listen, the music streams to a whisper
And a voice familiar in chance steeps me into a mesmer
A pinch of naivety paired with unexplained persistence
Urgency bordered on reasons sought in consistence
A twang of magic, a sprig of fragrant mint
When boils the cauldron for a confirmatory tint
Colours pink and yellow, not yet red to wallow
Until the moment oceans meet and dreams mellow
A wait in remembrance of the unknown entity
A hope in a tear, for a story in envision able reality
All for the misty tomorrow at sunrise
The confirmation of an unwritten legacy ready to rise
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Enjoyable to read, almost like a spell.