Eleni
I, Rumi; as a child
She, master; is Attar
An email and number:
“You can call.”
An angel, of skies
Urn of love; is of sun
Talking soul of Allah
Earth I am; small, dust
She’s dervish and Maula
Stars’ light her questions
Answers moon in a wave
Fragments; scattered…
What is this but spark?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem