My love, I know you have been searching,
So desperately lurching
Towards each distant echo of me,
Each one masking reality.
You have picked the hardest locks,
And lifted the heaviest, dirtiest rocks,
Just to be caught by the tide,
And swept against cliffs, where the darkness resides.
Your wings so singed and torn and tattered,
Your Taj Mahal all battered,
And yet to the fury of the flame
You return, to die again, again.
Your hands are empty, your fingers bare,
No symbol of eternity there,
Each tortuously built construction
Teeters and topples, becomes your destruction.
I am deep, cool pools, ‘neath rainbow falls,
Where blossoms float and cuckoos call,
The sturdy trunk behind your back,
My branching arms around you wrapped.
I am your stole of warmest wool
Softly round your shoulders pulled,
Your toasted cheese by fireside,
I still and dry the tears you've cried.
I am your groom, your flowers in bloom,
Your safest room, your witches broom,
So, dearest, brush away the rot,
And look down to your Camelot.
I am above and I am below,
Eagerly awaiting you to show
That love is not external,
But lies within, constant and eternal.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem