POSTPONED LAUGHTER

Our postponed laughter will surely celebrate and light up the evening. Your love has given me a light that no one could have imagined, not even the poets sitting in the winter café. What a great joy, what bright colors!
I feel the fragrance of your love wafting through the alleys where the air is free, walking deeply without affectation or a straw hat.
Oh my God, don't you see this vast number of brightly colored butterflies? Don't you see that I would like to tell you about many things, whose whispers I have begun to feel in my heart?
I will tell you about a boat of dreams as I travel in the breeze. I wish you could have seen that. How strange it is, a swallow singing in the corners of my hope, and a sparkling river carrying me to a floating city. I saw them there. I mean your blue eyes shining amidst the trees, and on your lips postponed laughter, a faint color that I thought was your love.

Whenever I see anything from you, my heart blossoms and soars without return. I must tell you that I need you to feel myself. Yes, I need you desperately and without delay.
Come a little closer so that the flowers may bloom. I feel nothing without your nectar, and I am nothing at all without your presence. I only feel happy when I see your blue eyes.
Come closer, so that your light may fill my weary soul and my poor heart. When I see you, I feel my pulse and the beats of my heart, all thanks to you alone.
After a long darkness, I feel my soul that was absent and find my lost happiness. I feel the light of your eyes penetrating me deeply.

In front of your blue eyes all the joyful things sway before me, and dreams dance lightly and endlessly, penetrating me like a happy, unforgettable story. It's your blue eyes drawing a smile that melts all the ice the galaxy knows. I wonder at this enormous amount of ecstasy and joy, I wonder how lucky I am to have these moments that ****** me away like a delicate, invisible bird. In front of your blue eyes, I am something unseen. In front of your blue eyes, I am a pile of feelings that are neither felt nor seen.

Your love is a summer flower drawn by a dreamy lover, gathering baskets of longing, carrying them on a horse's back, and sending them every morning toward your blue eyes.
Your love is a secret, a magical tale that resides on distant islands within me that only you can touch.
Your love is the joy of the morning. When it opens its eyelids, I melt into its breath like a wet bird, and I sail in your eyes without a boat toward oases of warmth where secret springs lurk.
Your love is a wild tale, a journey into the depths of the soul, upon whose branches lie colorful birds. I wish you could smell its captivating fragrance.  Your love is a secret, something I can't tell you.

I am the remains of a flower in a thirsty garden. I stretch my hand toward your flowing river, counting the moments of despair that fill me with a strange solitude that places me on a forgotten cliff.
I am here waiting for you, waiting for your rain; waiting for your call without hope or a whisper. I have nothing but this unforgettable solitude. Nothing but remains drowning in a strange silence and a strange distance.
Yes, I am the remains of a forgotten story. When I wake up in the hands of longing, I recite all the passionate poems. How I wish you would shine upon the remains of my thirsty fields. How I wish you would feel me one day, to touch with your hand what remains of me.

Come closer to me, sit here, under this tree, here is a bird singing and a pink flower that never lies. Come, reach out and shake my hand. Come closer to me, and remove all the leaves of distance and gray veils. Come, let's sing of love, and write a poem on this beautiful night. Our hearts are warm and full of dreams. Come and sit; don't stay standing, for my eyes are tired from tears and my heart is tired of waiting. Come, warm yourself with tales of love, for our souls are pure rivers that never know cold. Come closer to me, let's write a new story.

I know you're an illusion, and I'm happy with this illusion, and that's enough for me.
I know you're something impossible, and I like to strive for you, even though you're something impossible. How happy that makes me.
I know you're a distant dream, but believe me, I'm grateful to be living this distant dream.
I've become so convinced that you're an illusion that I've given my mind and reality a vacation. I'm like the ancient sages, but I've given my wisdom an early retirement because I'm truly happy with this magical illusion.
I've become so convinced that there's no way to your blue eyes, your charming smile, or your luminous face. I've become certain of that, and yet I'm immersed in the dazzling joy of your existence.
I know you're an illusion, and what a beautiful illusion you are.