Nipplet's Pink drops dew.
Dries on your thigh, covered.
I tarry, I tremble, me inside?
I blush, to beggar you a warm
mile, your smile is my feast.
In awe, I look around at your banquet.
My eyes linger, softly at the Den of Edens swell.
He the God lays in Mona's fruit adorned.
Thorn less the bud lays exposed to his touch.
He graciously extends his hand to her, and asks
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
lovely love poem, nice idea