Every piece of sense in me
Burning for her notice
Its as if I want to take all measures for her attention
But without my exploitation, complete secrecy
She sends me signals
All direct, but directly in puzzle form
Do I approach her
Or is my mind exaggerating her kindness
My mind, no longer a thinker
But a slave to confusion
Questions I ask myself
With answers I can't give myself
Do I ask fate what she wants
Or do I grab it in the way I would her
Warm and gentle
Accepting whatever it gives me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem