A certain something
There must be
That's born within all Poetry,
That makes us feel deep sentiments,
Transports us to Worlds without end.
Is Poetry the French perfume,
That saves the spirit from its doom?
Or is it like, Bolero Dance
That holds you in a lifetime's trance,
In love with what you see and feel
While traveling thru this special land
Of sincere love and outstretched hand,
Where evil thoughts are mostly banned
Thru deep fraternity.
A refuge for the artistic soul,
No longer traveling all alone.
Arriving, finally at home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
All of those things.... especially the circular dance. Love!