The blue in your eyes,
Match the color of my drink,
It matches the color of excellence,
And long dried ink.
My words cannot describe,
My thoughts won't fathom,
You are just here,
And when you are not,
I cannot imagine.
Rainy nights and empty bottles,
Dripping roofs and liquid rings,
The memory of the last view stings,
It grips me at midnight, and when it's done,
I can't remember what's wrong or right.
I've told you once or twice before,
This is all I am and nothing more,
And that you, my faulty words could not have described,
But I have to swear to you, my friend,
That your existence is where speechless perfection is ascribed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem