Give me just a nibble
Of your honeycomb
And that will do.
To suck of your honey
is a king's reward,
I am just a pauper;
A poor spinster
of worn-down threads
that I am too poor to replace.
When passing by me
do shuffle your feet
and my heart will dance.
Your voice is a song,
your hello, a symphony,
all on it's own.
Do you know I have an album (In my heart)
of your every sound?
It bids me to wake.
Flip your hair from far.
I will search for the draft;
It is like a kiss.
To run my fingers through it
is like being kissed
a million times over,
But I am a poor spinster
of worn-down threads
that I am too poor to replace.
What do I know about love?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem