first it must have a path
of polished flat stones
leading to the door of
strong wood from the
deep forest locked with
a golden knob and the
windows are made of
glass where i can see
the moon and sun when
i lay my head on a pillow
the living room must
be not so big to keep
us in whispers just the
two of us in intimations
and then the bed must
not be so warm so we
can be there to make
it warmer and even
hotter a little bit to
accommodate our
hidden passions
and then there is
this secret room where
my heart and soul shall
stay, that even you my
love shall never know
this is my dreamhouse
you are always free to leave
when your love finally burns out
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem