There was a man
With charming green eyes
His face always shining
Like a spring sunrise
Having gentle hands
And skin made of ice
when he plays on strings
His spirit calling paradise
He's who I write about in poems
Yes, he's who I call them wise
He's when I write about..
My chest blows endless sighs.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Write comment. Beautiful poetry, Aya. Read my poem, Love and Iust. Thanks