Yoked I am that one of he,
among the likes of you whom she posses.
The center off a little to the panties moved side.
I am forever hitting grinding teeth below.
Smoothing out the gums no grooves above.
Aimed a little low the room grows warmer still.
And as for him you pet him like a dog is god?
I watch you pull it in and never did push it out.
From my prison cell taken from the county jail.
Empty never full to you it comes.
That one secret of your hand when it inspects him.
Directing his your arrow, deep within him.
You whisper it is good do not take fear.
The arrow where it's aimed ' It disappears.
Daintily at work one priest he of that altar girl.
When she made him to love her,
and from such beauty hearts are pierced.
The arrow he plucked out it never reappeared.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem