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you are the poetry
that i cannot write,
the raw and simple beauty
my words cannot define....
the fire too hot, too close,
singeing the corners
of my heart.
the pulsing of life itself,
that began before,
and will last beyond....
you are the touch of life,
that i follow madly,
pen and brush in hand!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem