I can never tell
whether it's his heart or mine beating
when passion pulsates
faster than our hearts oneness
I inhale his dreams
in order to be left blithely breathless
His fervid whispers
drawn into my caged craving
And my desirous dolour-
expelled from his void contentment
We pine to feel heaven
as we rise and fall
with the golden rhythm
of our inarticulate silence
(like the way a weary wind careens to dance
with the melody from a far away brazen carillons)
I can never tell
whether it's the beat of his heart or mine missing…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem