I thought it was clear when I first saw your face; the charm, the light, the warmth of your glow.
But I had no idea how beautiful you were. And maybe I still don't really know.
Yes, there are those who'd say you're just lovely, or pretty, or pleasant to view.
They simply don't know what a treasure you are. And no … I'm not obsessed with you.
I look in your eyes and my soul shakes a little; I ponder your smile and I sigh.
I think of your spirit and your warm, loving heart and a single tear comes to my eye.
Not in sadness, nor grief, but in glad disbelief that all that I knew (or so I thought)
was a phantom of love,
a lonely flower watered by the tears of a dove
whose flight was given for naught.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem