To those teenage girls who love in a man
that which they should not.
Ploting and scheming, they gloat over it.
Seeming to feed on it.
And as such they seem well nourished by it.
Throwing their heart's upon stakes they shudder
and cling tighter to it with both hands.
Then at night they cry out and come back for more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem