Visit a doctor, they said.
I'd miss her.
I'd cry.
Weep.
Scream.
I tried to find her.
In soaring clouds,
In shooting stars,
In empty rooms,
In romantic books.
Anthropomorphism, he said.
I'd listen to her voice,
In gushing wind,
In chirping birds,
In melodious songs,
In busy crowds.
Anacusis, he exclaimed.
I tried to hold,
Her fragile fingers,
Her wild heart,
Her divine soul,
Her irristible body.
Love, the doctor sighed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem