The story teller tells his stories.
All are intrigued by his silver tongue and creativity, a beautiful mind indeed.
The story teller tells his tales,
adventurous journeys into unknown lands, melancholic farewells along the way.
He tells of Love, he knows her well,
he drank her potion, he ate her spell.
The story teller tells his stories,
he tells them all, he tells them well.
His eyes wide his pupils dilate.
He does not live here in the now,
he lives in his stories.
His heart aches for them to come to life.
When his stories told he is lost astray, forsaken from his tales wandering about
in search of an ear to take him home,
where he belongs.
He is the story teller.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem