The Harvest Of The Day
Oyou
faithless,
Gather into your arms
the harvest of the day,
Whateverpossibly given, attained
without thievery or worse
Into given as rewards,
Nothing untoward as wounds,
For its prize,
Nothing can grieve me
more than being undressed,
without a shirt or brief
ortherein below, ,
It's possible to passed unnoticed
like a cold shadow,
Just some sauce and fancy gravies
and tongue spice to taste the impossible,
What ever is joy,
joy is given into the world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem