Without heat it was strangely warm
to the touch.
To rub them made them warmer still.
The scent was not unfamiliar it was a dark
deep scent a scent of musk, yet not.
One drop it seemed to me at the top
of any tree,
should fan the flames to what she sought.
She tried to rub it off I could not see
the night of day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem