Reading Poem by Lucia Stefanovici

You do not even know how beautiful you are
so sleepy how you pass to
life.
You do not even now how beautiful you are
and how you are being
so sat as you stay
with a trickled to mouth thought.
You do not even know how beautiful you are
letting yourself a strip in a sight
with honey, with silence, with much smell of kernels
as an unforgotten flower let in fructification.
To know, to be able to, to search,
to try to touch you
so beautiful as you are in my spirit
when your thoughts happen
from a window in just the right arm.