We woo the angels high in heaven above
and warm hearts grown cold from lack of love.
We linger as lovers beneath far-distant plains,
whispers drifting ashore in amorous quatrains.
Our story, a touch, that moves without word.
Silent chimes of beauty are suddenly heard.
Inarticulate breathings from love's holy shrine.
Love is the faith that leads toward the divine.
All things shall pass, all birds must fly;
yet, love is the only thing never to die.
Sweet like a dream, when once love is found,
nothing can stop it nor turn it around.
Forever this way, below a melding of streams,
we live in the love on a ship of dreams.
No waters could drown it, put it to sleep.
Love is yet deeper when buried so deep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem