THERE is this longing
(well-defined like a completed
portrait of
the beloved, the only one
loved and desired)
there is this love unrequited
like hands opening to space waiting
for another hand to hold it
tightly and be taken
in to the window of the sky
there is this empty space still unfilled,
and hence the night is lonely and the room is
dark
with a candle waiting to be lit by you alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem