the left hand holds the glass of wine
another hand on the table
someone dances
gyrates and signals with a finger
that the show of lust begins
you have only your eyes
and your silence
the rest moves like a war of conquest
inside your mind
you pretend you are a rock
unmoved by the rage of the big water
a hard heart
gazing, until when? until when?
you take the wine inside your throat
you begin to forget but it will not be over
someone there gyrates
like a planet sucking your orbit.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem