i cant get enough of you but when your twenty miles away your just a platonic love
the ink leads us to the book
sometimes i ride the seventh wave of love
i put the spectsculars oasis in the interlunar space
we are just burning flesh and blood
a veil that comes between me and the mountain or the birds
the best visions
interesting alegories of platinum
what of his workings, emblems of his faith
compounded by what
the interior
our palace of love
foam
hate
love
i love the birds
the multicoloured ones
there freedom explains the lost world of our harvest
the theatre
non being verses being never affected like water of a ducks back
affect sEnsitivity to affection,
effect,
cause, begining of experiment
reaction
i am the key to this abbyss
i dance upon the wave
of passion and desire for celebration of haleluyahs to the muse
of joys that overspill
your jeweled cup
dance in front of the love god
the perfect bliss
the stars are bright not dim, out of controll
love is out of controll like the wind, escaping the prison
there are jewels in the cup, but look at the brim whist drinking
the wind told it to the forest, the forest told it to a lake, the lake told it to the cave, that told it to the snowdrift who told it to the valley, who told it to the to the mountain.
on the ocean there is an altar that falls that says it to a lake that rises.
is there nothing to inspire, send the senses reeling
stirr the passion
lifes sprk degenerating to an epitaph i confess i did seitze thmoment
my soul was ravished by hercharms, whipedinto a trance
whatever cosumes my desires
watever
everything that is not luke warm
so are we
to surf the foam
your neck of sand
stands in front of gods
the stars seem to be dimming, ignoring the dance along the path to utopia.
this inevitable decent from paradise
this fusion with god
this desiduous offence to our efimeral souls
what form are we looking at
yhe form of your waist
the waste of time
visible only to the discerning
the exploits of the universe are
your wasted years
our relative value is unbalanced with passion sometimes
but science foams unapolageticaly reminding us of the transitory
bodies lost in the universewhose direction
is nul and violently ardent
our everlasting love depends on our position in andromeda
my concience of him is paramount
he is a mountain
or a sea
i feel him intimately
who wants to be near the acropolis
camon girl
lets go all the way and it this way
atoms and no fusion
no golden staircase to your bower
and the tree has roots
although its branches reach freedom
of the birds
that see the many flowers that speak bewitching the sight
of the light
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem