My feet are heavy
To an early church mass
And my hands caress them
When she is gone finally
My feet become lighter
And my hands stopped pretending
Then the real loving begins
Alone, this window opens
There my love
Lurks posing as a nude woman
Her arms opening to take me in
& through this window
Some yellow butterflies with black edges on its wings
A little larger than my thumb
Circle over my head.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem