The depth of your enchanting eyes have taken over my attention.
I try to listen to what you and everyone else are saying but keep getting distracted.
I suppose thats the problem with the word enchanting.
You keep on talking but what might you be saying?
Your eyes are still casting a spell over me.
So enchanting, so tragic...
Why are they so tragic?
And could the mystery of their misery be the reason they are so enchanting?
Like the mere sip of wine, but not a glass to quinch your thirst.
So enchanting, so tragic, so....
Could my eyes inspire such questions as this?
I think not.
My eyes are dull.
My eyes have seen little pain.
I am envious.
I want to wear your eyes.
I want to steal your eyes along with the past the molds them.
I want them to irk these thoughts in peoples fragile minds.
I want to have this control over their minds and their thoughts.
Possess them to the point where they can't even hear.
I want to steal your eyes...
(So I sometimes scare me, things like this are why. One of the scariest things is I think this is my favorite thing I've ever written. )
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem