You left a spectral smile that stalks my mind,
To haunt my only niche in Time and Space,
My every thought in reverie I find,
Reminiscing your compassion and grace;
You've gazed into my eyes, fathomed my soul,
To bare intricacies of my desires,
Then groped in darker alleys of our stroll,
Spied ideals to which my heart aspires;
And thus, an open book I might have been,
That you could read, by browser or by braille,
Times of my life, the hues and shades, you've seen,
All secrets yet, and not for me to wail;
...A book you'll treasure and reread again,
...Or pages might yet shade you from the rain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem