Love,
take those red plum tomatoes,
in a garden where we used to dance,
swaying along with basil and thyme,
and our kisses glow under the rhythm of bossa nova.
Blanch them,
Can you feel the heat?
that is my emotion,
burning hotter than the boiling water,
it never evaporates,
but stay longer.
Peel them,
throw those seeds of hatred,
if you ever give up your love on us,
my heart will surely bleed and die in misery.
Put them in a saucepan,
with garlic, grated cheese,
sliced basil leaves and thinly sliced onion,
stir them with red wine till thick,
as thick as my eternal trust,
never thought of you of any act of betrayal,
because this love of ours is sealed tightly,
with the condiment of faithfulness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem