Sometimes you slept with your head
right on my chest,
with your soft hairs
spread like a patch of grass
or auburn flowers
and I could see
your tender nostrils shivering
and felt your heart beating
while you clasped
my right hand
on your breast
against a big
half aroused nipple
and the whiteness of your skin,
the soft perplexity of it
the warm patch of your womanhood,
the frailty of you against me
made me feel
as if I could shelter you
against the thundering
waves of life
that was knocking against us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem