One day I will write you a poem without the onset of night or the whisper of a breeze;
a poem without flowers — there will be no jasmine or marigold in it.
One day I will write you a poem without a grove, without a nightingale;
there will be no sea in it,
and for the sky — I will not long.
One day I will write a poem for you, and it will be enough
to let my fingers trace your form and return your gaze in words.
A poem without similes, without metaphors — one day I will write you a poem
that will carry your scent,
a poem with the rhythm of your heart, with the rush and the fire
you give me in an embrace.
One day, for you, I will write a poem — the song of my Joy.
