She stood resplendent in passionate red.
A mole on her lips, a stallion kissing, eating bread.
Wild was the stud, lost in her glory, wanting a moment of blasphemous orgy.
I could not help, the ape in me gaped, and spoke the tounge of corky.
My lips shivered, soul muttered, what a wild beauty.
She was walking by, stood, looked, red in anger, furious and fumed.
Slender, lovely, she was a gods poetry, a woman in bloom lusty Lilly.
But my darling, you are not match, for the iron clad 4 Wheeled filly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem