Love is an enchantment you feel
on the glazing face of the morning
not the sizzling hunger in the womb
of night that keeps us so burning
love is body and yet not the body
a bird on flight and so moody
but not desires so common
on waters of needs all muddy
love is a forgetfulness of self
in prayer to God in silence
when all conflicts about possession
melt into nothingness, its essence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem