Sky was raining the fireballs,
Sweating unto the pores,
In the night of melting bones,
A cool moon with cold dew,
Wipes the sweat into the clouds,
Giving relief to burning souls.
The earth that burned through day,
Is cooled with the gift of breeze,
And melting the young lovers,
Into one bed, cool and fresh;
Linen wrinkled and eschewed,
And entered into bodies warm,
Forgot the existence worldly,
And love was their game and prayer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem