The Love Poem

A love poem that I eventually want to write music for.

Fresh peonies have no softer touch

Than you, my love.

Quartz has not the shine

That lies in your eyes.

Sweetheart, rose, darling, the one:

Pet names have no way of

Capturing how I feel deep down,

My light in the dark, my white dove.

Be the Eurydice to my Orpheus

I hope my lyre would be enough.

I’d go through Hell and back

Just to caress your face.

Winter dormancy is my heart,

But spring has sprung in my soul

Because you are a work of art,

And you make the broken pieces of me whole.

If I could, I would

Paint a picture of how

You burst in my mind,

But not even God can imagine that.

The deities all envy

The bond we have formed.

The universe tried to take it away

But we fought the waves, the hurricane, the storm.

These are just words.

No language can capture

The song in my soul for you.

Music is my only interpreter.

Reviews

[johannes]

I loved this poem. It is very true. I often relate the idea of translating love into words to translating French poetry into English -- after translation, something is lost, be it rhyme or meaning, as one cannot go seamlessly from one language to another without giving up something, and love is no exception. Excellent work!