Perfect Island Poem by Atef Ayadi

The passion is calling me
And is taking me
In a long trip;
To Eileen’s eyes.
Since Eileen’s eyes
Are a my perfect island
And my dream's destiny
I’ve been looking for
Since my first birth,
And I am looking for a rebirth
On a white sandy beaches.

It is hard
To find it,
Access it;
Cease it,
Claim it with my white flag,
Or own it.
Because, they told me:
“A POOR MAN
With immature dreams
Does not need a new land.”
So,
I painted my dream island
The same map,
The same beaches
The same eyes
On
My chest.