She hears you sigh
through her eyes,
peeping at you
over a book
she had long despised;
long before she met you,
through her same black eyes.
But you like them blue
and she knows it too,
and she keeps you
looping in her dreamy eyes.
If you look for love
on tight-lipped days,
she wont mouth a reply,
nor would you find it
on a clean-slate sky
because
it's all in her eyes,
all in her eyes,
all in her eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem