From your soft, full lips,
A tender kiss when slips,
And lands on mine with a hiss,
Causes my SELF to miss.
The lilt when your lips part
From mine is what reminds me
Of the vibes-driven waves of
Desire and passion you set in.
Who would like to part
From You, Oh, blessed damsel,
Though ages drag
Dark veils on waning youth
And scowl-full decrepitude!
The fate of passion is writ large on its brow. As we ever like to swim in the waves of it, the under currents pull us down to the depths of nothingness and vacuum. Still the pondering mind at times fret for her dazzling charms and sweat in the chamber of fantasy evergreen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Touching intensity. I like the choice of words