A poem is
A novel
Concise,
Enveloped
In a few
Tightly pressed
Lines.
To read it
You shouldn't
Trudge
For days, weeks, months,
And, sometimes, years
Through yellowing pages.
You read it
In an instant,
And then
It unfolds
In your mind
For days, weeks, months,
And, sometimes, years,
Like a bud of a lotus flower.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A refined poetic imagination, Sveta. You may like to read my poem, Love And Lust. Thank you.