Human desire has a soul,
And life on its on.
A countenance of restless fire
and a content smile when its won.
Desire has a memory,
And brings back to recall,
The shape you held that moment,
Thinking if only this is eternity.
It has a lean, a walk,
a smile that is brilliantly holy.
It is her,
When she is in glory.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem