An angel reflects in my glasses,
While I turn pages and bake novels,
His gaze burns with longing secrets,
I felt my heart vibrate, and I screamed, enchanted.
It seems his eyes have been scary, staring through me,
It appears too reserved and desperate, silently,
What desire lingered, he kept
Yet I wait for another, dear diary.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem