Each line a medicine
A salve to the soul
A poets ailment is plenty
To sorrow and beauty
We bleed in words
Exhale that wounded breath
A whisper speaks
In verse I am not Romeo or Juliet
But equal in tragedy and art
And to love, to love
I speak with open arms
Here I am once more, alone
A poet speaks from the soul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Matthew, such a splendid piece.................10++++++++++++++