you like coolness
of my buttons.
you are touching all.
we are going up.
the everyday life
and our concerns, with us.
we are falling
how waves,
by the edge.
on the floor
are shining buttons
as decorative glasses
we are breathing quickly.
in order not to forget,
we are wrapping on self
up around us, as ivy,
our hands are searching
for sensitive points...
behind the window
the street full of the noise
and the tumult
familiar but alien to us
now, we are counting,
only won time, for oneself...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lightly, shapely and interestingly. Fine writing, I like it. :))