Translation 2 Poem by Gert Strydom

How will I bring my love to you
my angel, my big-eyed woman,
when words do all of the time loose their ability?

Now that I do know you in the touch of my fingers
I know intimate and sincerely the Braille of your body,
on the walls of my soul parts of you are etched in,

where my hands do interpret every emotion and need,
do massage the pain out of your back into spider raising hairs
and shivers do creep down your neck and thigh.

When you braid like curlers of lie spooned against me
and do surround me in the depth of the darkness,
while I smell your breath when it passes my cheek

then moments for both of us come to a standstill
when your artery and heart do pulse and beat beneath me
where I do keep on translating the codes,

while doves do sing their songs of love
and the moon enchants the lively night,
and I am enthralled with your moods.

Only to you cards do carry meaning,
do I find beauty in flowers,
do love songs on the radio sound sincere

when dreams do become reality,
when your lips do taste like peppermint,
while your eyes do open your soul and spirit to me

and when words do lack it is the inter-text that says everything.

© Gert Strydom