I write to you only
In poetry now
Letters are useless
Our poems contain
All the silence between us
Wherein we remain
Poems are the songs
Of church morning bells
Lyrics are scriptures
Of soft evening rain
The choruses ring
On the craters and hills
In echo, again and again
We make love and listen
We laugh when it's funny
No judgments to sweeten in
Vaseline and honey
We never use words
Language is absurd
For transactions of touch
Where blood rises unheard
Now we celebrate silence
It causes no fuss
Love and only Love
We will let speak for us
And with all time erased
Your hands recall my face
And kisses speak to you
In every quiet place.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem