I wrote this
To fit the small space
Of a last page
Enough room
For infinite dreams
Of wet tongues, closed eyes
Of passionate fountains and endless skies
Of the smell of your sweater
And the perfume behind your ear
Of your fingers in my hair
And the lasting glow of the setting sun
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very nice... very well done. says enough without saying too much. paints the picture well.