it is the thing which makes men mad,
it sets the heart flame to free the mind,
to an ancient language so sublime,
spoken through out all time.
It is an unspoken sonnet between two lovers
that blooms like midnight blossom on moonlit
night. It is the sweetest of promises we keep
it gives with no conditions or terms, given
with out thought of return.
It makes us whole
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem