The skies wait for their enchanted nebula,
The greenage for rainly caress,
The night stars bore; until a prelude sun light,
A poets page; has an eternity rest
He befriended a times agenda,
She(Marisol) is the rising moon from oceans wonder,
His night amuse chamades; till faro abate,
Ere....his eccentric romanza; eternal wait not his blunder.
She has heaped the love not skinchime, but airly felt,
She is in upheal, wandering night; his night star she stares,
In midst of time, he entreats the fragments that make her,
He entreats her hair, her odor, and her vesture, he declares.
Eternal wait, until the latin princess subdues into his embrace,
They live by literature, exressions made known from write,
Complacent hearts; His love has traveling streams in air,
She is the receptionist of his work, he is the endured inspite.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem