We made love without feeling,
Touching each other without seeing,
Without hearing we breathed too,
Holding each other and not knowing who.
Sheets, in unknown positions, touched us,
Grabbing in our hands, a tender roughness.
And lights, reflecting something or nothing,
To my lids, remained gone.
The remaining darkness, left of the night,
Lay in the sheets, soft and slight.
Containing therein, the lust of our night,
Our beautiful bodies, long and white.
Chestnut hair scattered across my chest,
Rose up when i breathed, and down when at rest.
The day entered, a and with it i can see,
The body i loved, was just as it seemed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem