Show me a way,
That I may travel along,
In order to locate your home
If I find you there,
I will never come back,
I am searching for the magic mirror,
That makes the walls of your living room,
In order to see my image there,
Holding no space, closest and farthest to me,
Between me and my image, the mirror is a curtain,
I see my every feature unveils,
Little by little every moment,
And I become less and less pretentious,
And more and more primitive and real,
Like the picture drawn by you in your image,
When you first made me as your viceroy,
The dot on soul's alphabet bā!
Let me please stay put in your region,
Here it is soft and clear, without haze and mist,
Here I will no longer be me, but you,
My true self!
Mykoul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem