The picture in my mind,
The picture in my soul,
The picture i talk,
The picture i hear,
The picture i see,
Its the picture i feel.
So with a brush and a piece of canvas,
Paint in a bucket,
And as i start with the brush,
I realize its pointless,
To use such a small brush,
For a picture indescribable.
I dip my hands in the bucket,
Then my legs and onto the canvas,
Still not enough and strip i have to,
If the picture is to make a resemblance,
To the indescribable picture i envision.
It is the picture of you,
The beauty of the moments,
The feel of your touch,
The measure of that first love,
That only you could offer,
Imprinted in my heart,
In colours indescribable,
The picture i can not erase.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem