It pours out onto paper
and stains it with
bits and pieces of
oneself.
What drives the heart in these moments?
The written dance of lovers trance
is at its very heart a practice of honesty.
The poet struggles
first to find truth and
then to express it.
It may be hard, and cold, and barren.
Or it may be dead, and lost, and forgotten.
Or it may be brimming with joy so overflowing that
it’s compelled to shout from the highest precipice,
“Praise be to God! Who has blessed me infinitely! ”
But that depends on the heart, truly.
For it is deep within a mans chest
that pulls, and yanks, and tears and
keeps him moving. Ever onward.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem