The imprints of your fingers
Have marked a half-full glass.
The sentiment still lingers,
The moment's due to pass.
Your glance can still appear
In my Campari drink
Like blood that's mixed with tears,
Or passion's scarlet ink.
My hand's already missing
Your gentle velvet skin.
My heart is reminiscing
The sweetest little sin -
The dream that made my morning.
Your arms, your voice, your lips
Discover space for yearning...
I'd better go to sleep...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem