when i open like the petals
of a flower
you are the sun to
receive me
i do not burn in your heat
for it is as gentle as
the morning rays
of the lovely beginning
when you close your house
and hide in the orange
tinge of your bedroom
i exude a certain scent
so enticing
so you may sleep with some
dreams
and i shall be there
with you
you have become a
beautiful face
and i am the flower in your
hair
whatever, i am responsible
for this art
of loving
whatever, wherever,
whenever, we shall meet again
when you
become a fruit
i, may even assume to be
the last worm.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem