At times, the pen falls silent too,
Tears get caught between it and the paper,
Like a belt, it wraps around the slender waist of hope,
When it appears among the pages.
Hidden memories unfold
Between the lines on the page,
The pen rejuvenates once more,
Indeed, in the youth of love,
How does the embrace of reunion feel?
It whispers to my hair covered in snow,
Announcing the presence of spring,
On the slope of my eyes.
The horizon breathes onto my frozen breath,
In the deep blue sea of my heart.
The curtain of my imagination’s window opens,
My eyes stretch toward boundless expanses.
“Well then!” says the pen,
Lean on me, and let me hear the whispers of your words.
