I offer you a tender gift each day:
Gentle thoughts wrapped in honeyed syllables,
Heated passion sheathed in crystal prisms;
All of these in small alabaster jars,
To line the shelves of your vast treasury.
I sometimes wonder if you look at them,
If you run your fingers across their shapes,
If you count the colors that envelop them,
If you breathe the fragrance they were bathed in,
Should you do all these, I'll want for nothing.
But even if the jars are unopened,
I shall still make a gift of them to you.
And when I have given you the last one,
You shall own all... and every bit of me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
outstanding and beautifully written.
Thank you very much!