That fleeting touch!
Of the one thing softer and sweeter than a rosebud, not quite in bloom.
I can imagine you, in the split second before my eyes close.
Leaning over me, leaning in, your hands in my hair.
Hovering in a delirious moment, almost afraid to cross
That short, immeasurable space.
A warm breath, so close, so very close.
Thawing my cool skin, turning chill marble to fevered flesh
Ice Princess, never! For I am aflame!
The bridge is crossed, all that remains are it's embers
Written here, wreathed in fervor, with your lips upon mine
An inferno which can never be quenched.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem