My Missing Poem by Uktamoy Khaldorova

***
My missing that has grown green,
In a mortar the night is grinding less.
Blending deep in the rose flowers
I would like to rest with the leaves

I like to swing hanging the robe
On the pleasant flavor of serine
I would like to tidy up the plates
Of the rays of the moon fine.

I'm drowning deep in your world.
In you my thoughts'd night, dear.
Wherever you might go or stay,
My feelings would blossom there.