I had been swallowed by some eyes.
They gradually became familiar.
An untouchable skin wrapped around a hand,
like an island in the horizon
enveloped in silky sands.
They were a mountain at some point
that pulled me up
and showed me what they saw.
It was a marvelous sight, but frightening.
I washed up at their beach,
after years of living on an island
of her soul, sunbitten, but alive.
Bright bloom
floating all over my dry spirit,
absorbing my essence away:
they stung me and stunted me for a while.
I saw them, and fear embraced me.
Their ardorous presence on me
made me melt like wax,
scrutinizing what I was,
and what I had been made of.
I always tried to hide from them,
because I knew I coudln't escape
their crushing stare.
I drowned in their deepness, not once.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Bright bloom-very wonderful writing.