The voice coming across the seas,
He could smell the aroma of thick passion,
In a gentle air.
Strings of music play melodies foreign to the heart,
Each pull of words string,
Stroke the heart softly.
Thoughts blossoming into words,
That lick the ink of pens,
Making the heart melt for a touch of the ink's mistress.
Heart played against heart,
Passion or lust?
Love or awe?
Of desires that strange dreams give.
In no question, I feel the expression in the words. Very good poem, now on to the next one :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The title fit the content very well..the line produced as beautiful as it made of colors..the emotion read it best while the ears listen it nice_Soul