…such gifts they are to nature,
Their glows are of the crisp morning rays,
Sweetly caressing this sleep drunken heart.
Each of your gaze, be it just passing,
Can slice my bashful soul apart.
quiver like tormented slaves
Pieces are now what used to be my all
-like the lost spirits of the waves,
in their constant rise and fall.
Before your eyes, I fumble and tumble,
when I talk, I mumble
when I walk I wobble,
So abashed I should get back in control.
Yet as always, even your gentlest gaze
Can sweep bare and clear all my energy
never leaving any option
For anything that gets in the way…
Hence, I beg in frailest whisper,
Please look at me don’t, dear oh dear…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem