Her eyes are like the sunset,
The blue, the amber, gold and pink,
Unsettling my heart, denying me rest,
Filling my mind and making me think.
Raising a strange warmth within my breast:
That fire, those eyes, those moments of heaven,
At each sight the same glorious unrest,
And fresh like dew each morning at seven.
I keep, I hope, her heart with me,
And pray and wait to feel, to see
That fire, those eyes, those moments of heaven.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem