Harbouring desires, she presses
her breast upon the lightly scented
linen. Folding clothes, robotic in her
movement, she feels foreign hands
wandering freely across her cloth
wrapped body. A stranger smiles at
her from the wall, memories of a time
when hisjokes loosend her lips and
his sweat was majestic and magnetic.
She rests her head upon his cold
pillow and feels nothing but fatigue.
The grass outside is rampant consuming
dreams of yesteryears summers.
Old passions move southwards and she sighs.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem