Pushed sudden through perception’s door at dawn,
small slip white
shook his senses unprepared. Took by storm,
banished night.
He thought a not was inched beneath the door,
rose with a start,
sweet repetition of the night before,
pounding heart.
But cruel tricks are played by love and light.
Thus he wrote:
Transposing hopes, desire distorts the sight.
Heart-strings smote.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem