(all Our) Miracles. Poem by Eugenia Dubinova

All our miracles,
we can whisper with coyness.
I can put my hand on your heart,
you can put your hand on my eyes.
We can also sit untouched, unbothered,
slowly planning to leave,
and eventually staying.

All our miracles
will now be cherished without fear,
loved as love pure, with wholehearted devotion.
In joy, in tender hands enfolded,
like little stars that can be glanced in the summer sky—
beautiful, shiny blisses,
hearts completely exalted.

All our miracles,
all our love letters,
all for us.