tell what time
is it that you come
for i will make ready
myself as an empty
cup
tell me what time
that you are sad
for i will
turn myself into
syrup
the moments are all yours
and i your
pleasant servant
of love
must have nothing in mind
but love for you
your happiness
it does not matter what
shall i become
an empty cup and then
a sweet syrup
a knob of the door
a kettle or a floor
for i am nothing without you
your incompleteness
completes me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem