Arms holding memories in tender hugs, loving them
safely in moments of timeless endeavors.
Printed blossoms of poems decorating insides of
intellect, reflecting onto mirrors of photographic
screens.
Holding dreams forever in tight-fisted thoughts,
allowing themselves to be held in gentle moonlight,
hoping to never lose them in wayward escapades of
life.
They waft in smoke-filled hazes, tangling mazes of
all that is seen in juxtapositional patterns.
They fall separately onto horizons we cannot always
see, while standing on shores of this horizon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem