The warm mellow scent of Mocha,
cascades in my room in spirals,
the mist rising from the mug,
Kissing my lips softly, sweetly.
Just like the fog,
that kisses the vibrant sun,
like a mother kisses a newborn,
the first sunrise of the New Year,
and the moon maiden of the previous year,
wafting away from its love; so glum.
The sky engulfs them both in its embrace,
as the sun dies each night for the moon,
to become alive.
Isn't it a splendorous beginning?
To a wonderful new year. A time to forgive and forget,
and embrace yourself,
for what you are.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem