I hear your faint cry
when the wind is silent.
raging I see your eyes’ quiver,
wide open,
emptying.
when I touch you,
your tremble ruffles the fruits
in the garden below.
then I taste your electric skin-
you could nourish me
in a puddle of cold
mud.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Interesting.....looking forward to more!