To the oblivion of my true self they drive me.
Your love is such that storms are too weak to uproot it.
He I prize more than all earthly treasures.
With sweet sorrow Your smile fills my soul
By Your tempestuous beauty the twins of mine get divorced
My worn body fell, the soul embracing Your love flew
What would be of the fruits against Tantalus's shoulders tangled
If a wind from his open mouth a branch always drags?
What of such unfolded feelings I get
When the wine of Your lips from mine is apart?
A poem is not but a bank where I plant my feelings
And the eternity of such a sudden delivery is my sole excuse for writing.
« return.