Dare I call you Godess?
In the ambit of your luminous beam,
unabashadly seeking slopes and planes,
I'm made and unmade and made again.
Hot nector nurishes,
I pine for your coucil,
the interminable inclination of your orbit.
supplicating with my eyes, fingers, thoughts
the magnificent macrocosom of your being.
Oblation of my marrow,
I am your pilgrim,
Everything interrupts you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wonderful poem, Matthew