Between your
breasts
the fly
is
perfectly
still.
I gaze
at it
as a trickle of perspiration
crawls slowly towards it
as if it could
would engulf it.
The fly however
is unmoved by it
held
(as it is)
forever in amber
moving only now
as your cleavage
is shaken
by the earthquake
of your lovely
laughter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem