With such a peek,
Just a quick glance,
Eyes back and forth,
Them, pretty dance.
Such bubbly words,
Paper on fire,
With a rhythm,
Now, desire.
Now no just glimpse,
Vision just right,
With no gander,
Eyes held on tight.
Blinks were now slow,
Then final breaths,
Eyes straight forward,
Papers as flesh.
Thus such vision,
With tells for words,
No need look back,
Eyes for records.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem