A bucket of color, a bucket of fruit;
A feast for the eyes, and healthy to boot.
And some dipped in cream look like mountains with snow;
They taste like a nectar that only gods know.
The lady beside me smells sweet of perfume;
I stroke her soft cheek as a song fills the room.
I say to myself as I'm falling for her,
My senses are simply five kittens that purr.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem