I love the pen you got me Mum.
But why are my thoughts being condensed onto the screen
Unlike the little ink drops of affection by Amy Lowell?
The state of our hearts are the same.
We love.
Our faces are flushed red under the ebony sky.
Mine a mixture of adrenaline and exhaustion
And yours, a painted blush of affection.
This is the pinnacle of it all.
Yet do we feel the same?
We live life with strange and prosaic intervals
And yet, I've fallen for both?
The animosity towards these feelings hurt me
Taunts me. The urge to satisfy myself is intense.
I doubt I would.
The flowers looks pretty.
What if they don't smell the same?
Yes I'll definitely choose one.
With bated breath I make my choice.
Masouyevoli.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very good poem deeply expressed.