night comes like
a zombie and
it sleeps with
you and
though the bed
has been cleaned
and perfumed
the hours turn
into stinking
skunks
somehow you
know how to maintain
that poise
of a creature
with beautiful eyelashes
and soft hands
still skin to the
pillows
madly in love
with
that gift of
sleep
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem