my mind overflows, this search for
the sensuality of art,
the curves, luscious mouths, soft arms,
white legs, hair flowing
as though the rains from the
emerald forest do not stop
a shower of the blessings
of the flesh
shapes and forms of love
speaking and caressing
in whispers,
my poetry desires all of them
... that night when i was so young
and spirited and so secretive
about the what the dark
night gives me
in full
gear
and no one is talking.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem