And why is it when he share a glance,
your half turns astray?
Towards the way where heart wishes to be?
True, he hopes only
To ill fall, deaf, dumb, and blind,
Freed of distraction so kind,
Freed from burden of beauty,
So he may write you words he
fail to so blatantly send;
Not through his valiant stutter,
Nor such ‘ncoherent mutter
may there be any such mend
To the drib'lings of vuln'rabilities.
Syllables dropp synchronistically
in closed door;
words come more,
For when his and your sharéd glance do part,
Does his silence but come his strain of heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice compose. well penned. i like it