Your eyes are the color of the morning, and when they knock on the doors of my dreams, my longing shines as if I were a forgotten story that returned to your embrace before sunrise. I still walk to you happily, and your voice is a golden river whose pure air I inhale, telling me captivating stories. I see the green light of your eyes sparkling, where everything sings. Yes, in front your green eyes, everything sings. How happy I am with you and those unforgettable, colorful and soft moments. How happy I am with your pearly face and the smile of your calm shadow that captivates me every morning.

I will call you silently, speak to you silently, and whisper to you silently, for your presence and your shadow are enough for me. When you pass through my mind, flowers bloom, the sun takes on a different face, and the morning takes on a different color. When you come in my dreams, candles are lit, nights are illuminated, my heart beats fast like a gazelle.
Yes, I will love you silently and miss you silently, for you are a beautiful, elegant, and distant being like a chandelier.
I will not let you feel me. You will not feel my voice, my words, my fingers, or my touch when I touch your nice face in dreams with all my love. You will not feel my longing and you will not feel my eagerness. I promise you, from now on, you will feel nothing but that I love you silently, for you are something so precious, delicate, and so distant.

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 WANT TO WRITE TO YOU

This is how I want to rest a little, to get away from everything and everyone. I feel like I want to rest a little, and write only to you. Your beautiful presence is enough for me.
In the midst of my silence and this vast space, I find myself knowing nothing, wanting nothing, or searching for anything other than you.
I feel like I need to write to you. I will spend long hours writing to you, long days writing to you, and long years writing to you. This is a covenant and a celebration.

I wonder if you'd allow me to call you "my dear"? To be a star that no other star can approach. And of all the flowers, all the eyes, all the smiles, you alone are my dear.
I wonder if you'd like me to call you "my dear," and to rejoice in your eyes, shining like green lapis lazuli, illuminating the sky like a flock of birds and dreaming butterflies.
I wonder if you'd be happy for me to call you "my dear," to chant your name by all the names, and to live in your light after a long, strange darkness.

Thank you for being my friend, your presence is a gift and a joyful world. Talking to you is a sweet song and a beautiful dream, and the moments of your presence are a strange reason for happiness.
Thank you for being my friend. You are a sunshine in dark days, a shining star in dark nights, and every strange breeze removes the worries of a gloomy day. When we laugh together, we laugh deeply and when we grieve together, we grieve sincerely. You are truly amazing.
Thank you for being my friend, my gratitude to you is limitless, and my happiness with you is limitless. Your smile in the morning brightens my day and lights up vast gardens in my soul, and your words in the evening water the fields of dew inside me, unforgettable.

Who said I'm a poet? No, I'm not a poet. I just sit there on the river bank celebrating your great flood.  It's every waterfall and breeze from the pure balcony where the voice is free and every story has no end.
Yes, I am not a poet but I can count the beats of my heart honestly, and see the features of light in your eyes clearly. As for those dark walls, they do not hear the call nor see your beautiful eyes because their hearts are gray and their hands are yellow.
Yes, I am not a poet but when your hand touches my heart, I see the depths and I burn without tears.

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 will smile this morning with all my strength, its silky threads remind me of your wonderful radiance, and its colorful birds remind me of your delicate tales that plant everything unforgettable inside me. Oh sun, isn't it strange that we meet in a boat of wishes and fleeing dreams? Where your golden hand weaves paths that know no calm. Back then, I was a free wild bird carrying in its heart every story that knew nothing about volcanoes. Isn't it strange that you have all this dew? Like a kiss that dyes my soul with the colors of the rainbow, so I take out in the midst of astonishment a delicate ear of wheat that overflows with happiness from your eyes, its beginning.
This is me, oh sun, a pile of undulating outpourings; I sail towards your glowing magic that knows no night or sleep. There; longing fills the very warm streams and embraces the very warm trees, so I vanish like a tale that knows no distances.

It is very easy to kiss a flower or to travel far to the east on a long night. It is also very easy to sing in the evening when the wind caresses your cheeks like a butterfly dancing among the trees. Oh, the trees, how they love to touch the face of the river, like this with complete spontaneity. How often you told me about walking among colorful paths and that it is something that delights the heart. Perhaps one day I will find a thread or a hand to walk with. But I remember the features of bright faces that we met on evenings filled with the breeze. How their captivating fragrance dazzled me. How often we drew with us a grave, a field, and an old hat. And we breathed the dawn like new travelers who came from far away. They only spend the night among the hills and their eyes only smile among unforgettable waterfalls.