This is how I see you. Smiling tenderly in snow
tiny flakes falling softly in your hair
on your lips.
I've never known blue, like your eyes.
I like to keep you that way, sometimes.
With your breath in moist smoke rising before your face
and perfectly formed crystals melted on your cheeks
Its not only in this mystical world of imagination
Where your beauty affects me.
I have flowers in my eyes, even on Fridays.
(part one of a trio)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice bit, Eila... looking forward to the next instalment... Asma...