He was describing how she held his face between her hands
and how she cried, how she grieved to go away and how
she sat next to him and said sweet things and
how he so wanted to touch her.
To touch him is a dream.
A craving uncontrolled
A desire, a need and a desperation
unattained, unmentionable and even
unthinkable for a simpleton.
I long to be worldly wise so that
he grants me that one attainment
The white owl said
don't be a fool,
its simple
turn into air
he will breath you in
become a liquid
he will drink you
cut yourself into pieces
cook and serve
he will eat you
and if it is only a touch you crave for
be born a child again
he will touch your cheeks
and may be even plant a tender kiss.
ah! to be a woman in love
is so useless!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem