Blind is the deepest love, where sight gives way to insight
And the wonder of her face is of no consequence
I summon my powers of composition, unswayed by her attraction
My skills of translation in the service of emotions
Language is my guide within her storybook of life
I hear her songs in lines made up more seductively than eyes
Dancing their descent and rise. And if I never see her face
I could find myself in her embrace
When I reach out with my heart to hold her close.
In the quiet of a small abode, large in its comforts
And in profile against a sky of endless dark
I dipped my small hands in the pristine pool
Of silence deep, finding a touch that made reply
As her hands met and conversed with mine
She spoke a tongue new to my life.
Insisting that I didn't mind, that the absence
Of her face before my eyes
Was beautiful beyond the beauty I was sure to find.
Renunciations made, you journeyed to construct
Your gates set on the freedom of deserted hills
Far from the cities which stand remote
Where stars and souls are never visible.
So at this evening hour, late in life as I am
My gaze declining as I gather your insight
I still conceive in dreams how we let our veils fall
At the wedding of our hearts, where finally
Your eyes meet mine as if the brightest stars.
Hi Frank, You write with romanticism and compassion. What a beautiful poem. This is just really soothing to read. You are very talented. Take care
I think it's really beautiful and some of us here can feel your words deeply as it could be written for us - women in love and poets
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
This is lovely, I especially like the final stanza, some cracking lines in the whole poem though. HG: -) xx