Come Back, My Love!
My lips are still burning
from the fire of the kiss
you planted on me
a year ago.
I have not touched any food at all -
neither a fruit, nor leaf, nor water
ever since the day you left me
burning in the quadrangle of my fire
alone, alone, a year ago,
that the memory of your fiery kiss
will be washed away painfully for ever
from the virgin garden of my lips
if they so much as touched
a fruit, a leaf, or water,
that the mid-summer warmth of your kiss
will turn cold as ice
if my forlorn lips
touched a ...