Far twinkling eyes lock to my being,
With passion and truth in all honesty's tender hold,
Falling- the eyes do so,
Drift down from mine to the length between.
So does a tear in barren lonesome,
Flutter from my gaze and plant against the trodden soil,
Which in its fertility laughs at what I've done,
It laughs- the voices spilling into my mind as the eyes disappear from view,
The laugh comes while the dry tear dissolves to meet the Sun,
Soil remains its desolate nature- waiting for a stronger torrent to bless,
But those eyes,
They are gone forever, as the river of time splits into fork,
A mistake wedging the tide for two paths.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem