Whatever happens to us,
it will be fire that has shaped us.
Your eyes,
the taste and smell of what I touched.
If what I kissed, has caused the rose
to bloom, to soon and the full moon.
That rest's up high.
My tongue,
hard as wire and it pushed through.
I wait inside the cave of dawn,
my bed, you've mades not dry.
Protective strong, the ripples spread
Out, I feel as you should.
What we have done together as,
Both deserve the fire.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem