I see her, I feel her and I touch her,
I love her but she does not exist,
She always comes to wipe my tears,
When I am unhappy with the truth,
I love a lie and the lie is molded,
In a beautiful girl, a beloved,
I bring smooth and shining clay,
Add my tears and make the dough,
Add my blood for a pinkish shade,
I put the dough on a wheel of thoughts,
I enjoy then making the body a doll,
I willfully delay the process of making,
See again and again a cypress tree,
The curls of her body I touch and retouch,
Moon, my friend then becomes her face,
I bring brown silky hairs from the dusk,
And pink milky roses from the dawn,
For the cheeks of a sweet and sexy doll,
Blue stars are then turned in eyes,
And the rose petals take the shape of lips,
When I kiss the doll she opens her eyes,
With a shy smile she steals her body,
She whispers sweetly, "A dress I need."
I request the clouds to become her dress,
And the moon is hidden in the broken clouds,
When lie turns in a dream, the truth interrupts,
She whispers sweetly, "I'm sorry sweetheart."
sum ppl use sorry to resolve awll things as it was before but sum use sorry to get rid! !
Groovy description. Deep feeling. A heart touching poem. Many thanks sir.
Your sweet heart must be a ravishing beauty with stars as her eyes, pink cheeks, lips like rose petals, silky hair ..... Wow....! Very imaginative write!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a different kind of nostalgia where the beloved is very much present but not in a conventional sense. She is around spiritually. She is doing her role along with the protagonist who openly tells: I love her but she does not exist / She always comes to wipe my tears, Very emotional. Thanks.