O ye stranger poet,
the flowers of my hrt,
the ocean salt that
bequeaths my gland a taste.
Your fine fingers
and world class
romancing words
tickles my heart
and flushes my
poor face blush
to earth's ocean
bed when I read
your alluring words.
Pls do not stop
for your ink stirs
my oceaned mind
for my soul might perish
from the flirtation
of your honeyed words.
Let the nutrient
of your words
garnish my
spiceless soul.
Let your mighty pen sword
slay me a thousand times
long as your words
are immortalised.
To die a thousand times
is but a token price
to read through your lines.
Or say i shall
invest each thousand days
to the admiration
of each single word.
O stranger poet
may your inks never dry
may your dainty eyes
and wordy hands
live to fight the
long fought wars of
love and hate.
To you stranger poet
I hope we meet someday
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem