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.

I will roam the valleys of love in the early hours of dawn, warming my glowing heart and brown horizon with your blue eyes.
I will give you a song you've never heard before. I carry it in my heart with the remnants of longing.
When I met you in the world of absence, your light so dazzled me that I sailed far behind your voice.
You are a cup of love inspired by wisdom. You are so similar to the pink birds that told me my eyes were ablaze with love.
Come closer, come closer, I am those meteors falling in the courtyards of longing. Come closer, come closer, hear my voice. How I wish I could write my name in a cup of love early.

I am a raindrop, and you know that rain is longing. It fall tenderly amidst the noise to revive the lands of our depths. Yes, that's me amidst the waves and seas of your love, just a raindrop falling before sunset. That's how I flow with all my love and all my longing, onto your cheeks and lips.
How I long for those moments that deepen within me and plant in me an unshakable love. I remember what your eyes were like that morning, what your smile was like that morning, what your voice was like that morning. I look at you with all my love and longing, and I send silent kisses on the wings of the wind, but when my longing overflows, my eyes are drowned in rain. Yes, raindrops are tears of silent longing.
I remember so well how I was just a raindrop in the endless seas of your love.

I'm still drowning in your little river. I still cling to the moment we met, even though I know your smiles are an enchanting world and your blue eyes something unforgettable. Despite the splendor of your light and your radiant appearance, you come to my dreams with elegant celebrations and moonlit music. Do you know how beautiful it is for your blue eyes to be all I dream of? I have become just a strange longing, like a painting on the water played with by the wind with its beloved pain. It is ridiculous for me to imagine that I would die of love, from looking into your blue eyes. If only you understood for once, if you would stop sailing far away, for your blue eyes to look at me; at my heart.

WITHOUT YOU
Without you, I no longer have the desire to swim in the wide river, because it reminds me of your stories. I no longer have the desire to walk among the palm trees and grapes, because they remind me of your smile. I no longer have the desire to talk, because it reminds me of your captivating voice.
Without you, my fingers are faint in the wind, the wind that made them pale like my soul. How could this happen? How could I forget? It is part of me, part of my heart that melts in the midst of a strange longing, in the midst of a strange nostalgia.
Without you, the air is not sweet to caress my glasses, and astonishment is the daughter of your barren absence. There is only a dry shadow, and you know that nothing remains of me but faint dreams. Yes, my soul is faint, and my heart is stolen.
Without you, I am a stranger on this earth, stealing the sweetest laugh from time. In my pocket, there is nothing but loss. I am not worthy of this life, I look with joy at the pictures of my memory, and smile with sadness.

Your eyes are a morning garden of flowers overflowing with tenderness and softness. When I look at you, I wander aimlessly and endlessly.
All roads lead to your eyes, everything reminds me of your eyes, it seems I have no escape. I no longer see anything but your eyes, I no longer remember anything but your eyes, and I no longer want anything but your eyes.

How infatuated I am with your blue eyes, how imprisoned I am with your blue eyes, and how lost I am in your blue eyes.
I see nothing without seeing your eyes, I hear nothing without remembering your eyes, I wake up in the morning and breathe in the fragrance of your eyes, and no evening comes without me going mad with longing for your eyes.
Your eyes are my eternal illness from which I will never recover, I am certain of that.

I will stay here, behind the silence and behind the curtain, sitting alone at sunset, remembering you.

Yes, I will stay here without you because I have learned the meaning of love and fear? And I have learned how deadly the moments of separation are? This distance is slowly killing me, stealing my soul that never tires of mentioning your name.

I will stay here, stumbling among the memories you left inside me. Ah; how intense is this separation. It spreads me in the air like the wind, so I touch your cheeks with all my love, and I delve into your lips with all my tenderness. Then I return with a story written by separation and your stinging distance.

I don't love you, but I miss you so much. I don't love you, but when I see you, I melt with longing.

Who said I love you? But when you're gone, I feel lost. Time fades with you like a cool breeze before sunrise, and laughter fills the space like colorful butterflies.

I don't love you, but your face never leaves my mind. I don't love you, but whenever I remember you, I smile. I don't love you, but I'm truly afraid just imagining your absence from me.

Every day I wait for you with heat and longing. I wait under that tree like a wet bird, like a withered flower, and when you come, my face turns red and I fly with joy like a feather.

Hold me close, your hands soft like a flower touched by a bright morning. They are a ray of sunshine, yet they are immersed in silence. Their eyes are closed, not wanting to see me.
Hold me close in the evening alleys, to erase this vast estrangement in my soul. There is nothing here but the sound of the wind, quietly stealing my joy.
Hold me close, the roads and windows like bracelets, speaking to me in a pale voice that no longer knows how to deal with its delicate suffering. I no longer know how to travel, and I don't want to.
I just want you to hold me close. Only you.

YOU AND I
You and I are a vineyard of grapes and endless joy. We travel in our small boat, never to return, as if we were a tale of green lapis lazuli, resembling your eyes. We travel on a carpet of wind, never to return, roaming the galaxy like spring butterflies that never know sleep. There, time is sweet like grapes. There, bright songs are released every morning. Then, we fly, yes, we fly and stretch our hands to the clouds amidst smiles. What great joy! You and I, an endlessly colorful night and endless satisfaction. Your green eyes and I, a joy that never fades. What happiness.

I know you, and I know that your eyes don't lie, that they are as pure and blue as the sea.
I know you well, and I know that your smile is enchanting and honest and that it transforms the morning into a different and dazzling story.
I know that your radiant face captivates the place, steals the spotlight, and transports me to dreamy islands.
I know you, and I know that your heart is a vast space, filled with indescribable compassion and honesty.
I truly know you, and I know that you are as deep as the sea, your thoughts as great as the sky, and your words as brilliant as the stars.
I know you, and I know that you are so different and you are a sea in which I have drowned.
I really know you, even though I know nothing about you except that I love you. Yes, I know that I love you, and that is enough for me.

How warm is your voice. And how I love to burn in my longing for you like a candle. Then I fly in your wide space like hot leaves floating on the surface of the water carrying all the wishes.
Oh, the warmth of your eyes that envelop me with fragrance like bouquets of roses confessing to you every morning that you are something sweet. This is how I shine in my longing for you, but I become weak before your green eyes because they are simply incredible.

You and I are from there; from the world of beautiful hearts where we meet the truth, and lines that know nothing but honesty and purity.
You and I are a story of silver snow soaring in a wide space without falsehood.
You and I are a delicate hand and delicate lips in a sky far from the falseness and pallor of my city.
You and I are a very white voice, a very fragrant flower, and a very delicate river whose beginnings are from your blue eyes.
You and I are a love story, where your fragrance is endless, your light is endless, and your tenderness is endless.

I asked every rose in our garden and every tree near our house to tell you frankly: Every year I love you more. Today, in this charming morning I spoke seriously with the sun, and we decided to tell you one fact: Every year I love you more. It is the last night of December and what I really remember are our moments where I love you more. Now, on this night, specifically in this intimate winter moment, I listen well to you and how Every year I love you more.  When I sit next to you, I love you more, and when I talk to you, I love you more. In fact, every moment I love you more, and every year I love you more.

I flow into your shadow like a very delicate morning and I wander through the corridors of my longing for you, but I find nothing but the remnants of longing that devour me like a quick meal. This morning is bright like your memory, except that I stand there under that tree waiting for you like an ear of wheat, when you pass by with all your strange splendor and strange charm. I touch my heart to get closer to you, and I look into my eyes in the mirror to celebrate with your enchanting specter. This is how I live with your mornings that scatter in the place like grapes that are still in the age of roses.

Only with you do I begin to feel my absent and strange self. You are the blue stream that revives all the deadness within me. Only with you do I feel happy, for the effect of your presence is unimaginable.

Only with you am I so real, may be strange or unfamiliar, but I am free. Yes, only with you am I real and free, and that makes me happy.

Only with you do things take on a different face, times take on a different meaning, and waiting takes on a different flavor.

Only with you do I feel for the first time that I have found something that I have taken so long to find.

Only with you do I feel hope in your hopeless love. Yes, only with you do I know happy moments.

How beautiful is this warm evening? How short it is! In it, I saw your eyes, your golden eyebrows, and your rosy lips. All the beaches welcome me, all the orchards and moonlight greet me, even the place and all the paths make me feel warm because I am with you.
It was a delicate, fragrant, and colorful evening, unlike any other; it celebrates your eyes and your bright light. Oh, this evening that loves your elegant clothes, your elegant walk, and your elegant smile.
I want to tell you something. I tried to send you messages every evening, to find you every evening, to see your eyes every evening. But I say it sincerely: I am so grateful, so grateful to you. You don't know how happy I am with you, with the memory of your eyes and the memory of your smile that never leaves me.

I know you're something hopeless, and your love is something hopeless. But I'm truly happy with this love, so much so that I've come to adore despair because it's a beautiful depiction of love.
Your hopeless love is warm and moist like a flower and soft and delicate to the touch like a breeze. O Silent, you come in the evening, embracing my heart with the tales of the little leaves with great passion.
Believe me, I don't need a step from you. I don't want anything from you, not even for you to look at me or thinking of me for a moment, because I'm so happy with your love. I can't imagine how miserable I'd be if I never saw your blue eyes.
I know I'm living in an illusion, dreaming, and lying to myself. But I will never forget this happiness of your love, which is hopeless and illusory.

I know you, and I know that your eyes don't lie, that they are as pure and blue as the sea.
I know you well, and I know that your smile is enchanting and honest and that it transforms the morning into a different and dazzling story.
I know that your radiant face captivates the place, steals the spotlight, and transports me to dreamy islands.
I know you, and I know that your heart is a vast space, filled with indescribable compassion and honesty.
I truly know you, and I know that you are as deep as the sea, your thoughts as great as the sky, and your words as brilliant as the stars.
I know you, and I know that you are so different and you are a sea in which I have drowned.
I really know you, even though I know nothing about you except that I love you. Yes, I know that I love you, and that is enough for me.

With you, I live in happiness, for your smile is something indescribable and unbelievable, planting in my heart every hope that never fades. With you, I've become more beautiful, for your blue eyes have drawn every cheerful color and every tender story on my face.
Only with you, I'm sweeter, for your lips are made of honey, like pink grapes. I can't tell you how I dream about them.
With you, I travel to magical cities, live magical tales, and live in magical tents that fill my heart with joy and happiness. With you, I've become purer. You're something that transforms everything around you into purity. Only with you, I feel myself, and I feel contained, fulfilled, and sufficient. Only with you, I want nothing else.

I won't tell you I love you, because I know that love dies when it's exposed.
I will never tell you I love you, because you are something precious, wonderful, and dazzling, and I don't think I deserve you.
I won't tell you I love you, because I fear being apart from you. Your presence makes me happy; your shadow makes me happy, and your departure makes me happy.
I won't tell you I love you, because I know you're not mine and can't be mine, so I won't tell you I love you.
I won't tell you I love you, because I fear losing your eyes and your smile that taught me the joy of life.
I won't tell you I love you, that's a promise. So never worry.

Your love makes my days as quiet as a rural tale. It makes me wait for you with a noisy calm, and when your face shines, I lean like a spike of wheat, and when your eyes smile, I turn into a heart that fell into the well of love long ago. Your love makes my days clear, without clouds or storms. Yes, you are my warm homeland. Don't you see that? Don't you see that my soul blushes when it sees you? Now you see that nostalgia suddenly flows, when your ghost visits me, it fills me with calm, a noisy calm. Every day, my coffee and I enjoy solitude; I smile at the dawn and sing to the sunset for no other reason than that I adore you and that I await you with a noisy calm.

Let me dream a little, for I am a man who hasn't known dreams for a long time. I don't know how to read words of love. Let me live a moment of illusion that will steal me away from this gray world, for this heart is a river of long absence.
You are the most beautiful thing that has happened in my life, and your love is the most beautiful page of my days. How can you possess me to this extent? And how can your blue eyes shine with such great joy?
My love for you is something I cannot describe, my feelings for you are something indescribable, and your smile is something indescribable. So let me dream a little before my happiness with you fades.

How does it happen? I am a brown-skinned peasant from the South who fell in love with a blue-eyed writer, who might once have been from the North.
She is a distinguished, beloved writer who feels the pain of the people and seeks to lift injustice from their shoulders. She writes about politics, which I know nothing about. It is said that politicians have theories and ideas, while I sit among the bean fields, hearing nothing but the chirping of birds and seeing nothing but the flow of the river.
She is the shortcut to beauty, creativity, pure thought, and profound wisdom, while I am that simple peasant who knows nothing about love or the Detian Falls.
How can she penetrate my loneliness? I am a peasant wandering alone among the fields. I had no idea that someone who falls in love with a writer becomes someone who loves reading and poetry.

Don't you look at me? Don't you see that inside me are warm desires? But they're wrapped in a cold blanket. Don't you see that the snow is your touch, the fog your color, and the silence your voice?
Don't you see that? I can no longer hold on as I should, and although in my eyes is a love you cannot imagine and a flame of longing, I am completely collapsing.
In truth, I am now soft whispers and a torrent of faint, muffled calls fading slightly toward the sunset.
Don't you see that I dream of your blue eyes every night? Yet I tell you frankly and simply: In my quiet heart is a strange noise, a torrent of longing for you.

If you only knew how many flowers I hold in my heart for you, and how much I wish to give you a flower every day, and write a kind greeting with it, and nothing more.
If you only knew how much I dream of pink colors with you, and how many beautiful paintings I paint with your smiling like the morning sun.
Your flowers in my heart never wither or sleep. I always talk to them, touch them, and caress them. How delicate and beautiful they are.
Your flowers have a distinctive scent and a special presence. They have captivating eyes like yours, and rosy lips like yours. And I, like a hidden shadow, flirt with your eyes every morning and kiss your lips every evening.
Your flowers grow near my stream, and I water them with love. They turn red, bloom, and blossom like a star and a gentle breeze. I water them with a waterfall of endless love.

I love the moon because its smile is as bright as your soul. It whispers in the ear of my dreams, telling me a long, never-ending story about you. And I don't want it to end.
In those distant, yet precious moments, the moon touches me gently and tenderly, showing me your face. It is adept at describing your eyes, your lips, your cheeks, and your warmth. O strange moon, how does it know you are this warm and tender?
It sits me on your shore in that warm world. It holds the water in its hands, coloring me with it like a morning butterfly, and wets me like a kitten. How happy I am with you.
One day, it whispered in my ear, "I will bring you her smile and her warm spirit." Then, there you were, in all your splendor and light. I embraced you tenderly because you are something precious and valuable.
You are the moon's whisper, the truth I miss.

THE COLORS OF YOUR LOVE
The leaves of your love tree are green, but they don't tempt your dazzling birds.
Purple is a stormy color, telling you that my love is deep and mature.
Blue is the color of love; it resembles your warm eyes, quietly inviting you in.
Pink is also beautiful; it resembles our whispers and holds hope for the future. And white is precious, resembling your pure soul.
Your love is a world of colors, enough to release a rose.
A red rose is a sign of love.
But my love for you is a bouquet of flowers that teaches us the beauty of colors.
The colors of you love are the sounds of birds and a beautiful painting.
But know that all the colors of love fade before your blue eyes.