passion is
heartbreaking
yet there is
this joy without
possible
explanation
pain is
another
it is there
but with passion
it can be forgotten
words
beautiful creatures
white pigeons of
my illusions
mirage in the desert
moon at night above the oasis of
palms
softly pain kills us
but the ecstasy is greater
poem upon poem
flowers with unnamed
scents
showering deep in the night
inside your
dimly lighted room
passion is heartbreaking
the hours are singing
pain is there
but the art of this self
this isolated soul
is never
dead
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem