I hold the rolled leafs up,
Not yet lit;
I run my nose down its length.
I breath in,
And the drag is sweet
such natural fragrance,
such earthly looks
Not yet lit.
The drag is sweet.
As I inspect the cylinered plant
vains I see.
brown, skeletal layers,
rolled tight for delight.
I hold the rolled leaves up.
slipped between lips
Not yet lit;
the tongue tastes a bitter sweet sting.
I've long waited to set afire,
my well taken cylindered plant.
And now that it has been admired.
A new drag will come with-in.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very sensual. No wonder you love sniffing them so much!