A window was half-open
And the cold wind blew
A letter is half-written
And half-burned cigarettes
The moon is fading
Like a flower bud
The heart was sinking
And moisture in the eye
Familiar with any grief
A desire is a stranger
Your eye gestures
Something was incomplete
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Another indubitable masterstroke from the very trailblazing queen of tell-it-all, sizzlingly romantic verse...and, well, a mere 10/10 can never really suffice to salute or adequately encourage this thoroughly endowed literary connoisseur!