THE POMEGRANATE WINE
Your journey was long. What brought you here to my ancient world? Was it Lord Byron's Armenian word? What brought you here like a lyre's song? Your voyage through the air was a crane's voice. Sir! Your silver voyage was born. It wasn't a mirage from a mirror pond. The pomegranate wine we had was strong. We are intoxicated in any street's noise. The air which brought you will take you home. Let me have a look at a flying flock! They seem to have tongues to get words to talk. I am with you so I want to walk. The air which brought you will take you home. The pomegranate wine stole the sun and shone. Our love is true but something is wrong. We are too intoxicated to understand the globe.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem