Grieving Women In Tortili Poem by Ilham Q Moehiddin

Grieving Women In Tortili



1
Evening winds comb my hair. In Carbonia, I swung to the top of my longing for the memories. Love the wind has been sailing the coast anchored to Sassari. This was plain-Vernaccia me away from the crazy drunken desires. Oh, the girls are ripe Oristano, I waved my passion. Too bad, too bad. Dear.

2
Fields in Logudoro, you're blocking my steps. From behind the fence, you offer me pecorino. Smelled of stale cheese I accepted without prejudice. Your lips smile, made me forget at times past the pier Carbonia. Cheeks flushed, O. I'm not tired of giving another color in the skin of your arm that most milk.

3
Take you to the Costa Smeralda you pick up the dried bottarga, made of your mother. Later I met again, so I promise you. Of Carbonia, I see your letters coming. Then suddenly stop your letter, like the wind that instant shade while anchored off the coast of Sassari.

The man grabbed Tortili-that's your freedom you met in a line of paper that leaves a message on the smell of Almond nuts.

Sardegna, Italy,2009.

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