The Spell Of The Primeval.
The blooming adolescence,
With some cankerin its blossom ,
Or some dormant snake,
Wilds all seasons.
The budding flower,
Arrests drones one by one,
And feels thirsty for equilibrium,
A peg in its draught, in the spring.
The fruits defies forbiddance ,
And lurk to bathe in the juice of orgasm,
The ghosts and witches take hold on desires.
Fire! More fire, rains and regains,
Seed to flower, fruit, and then pyre!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem