Poking—proverbial stick
I browse beelike in her hive
A honeycomb of aspic
That's only-exposed to jive.
There I, languidly flutter
Weak at the knees—I muster
My strength observes its nature
A self-defoliator.
… Tell-her again, I love-her
A flower pink as fuchsia
The world revolves around her
Now I've learnt to Cha-cha-cha.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
playful and sexy