what is sleep
if not with my face
against your back
my ear
cradled by your shoulder-blade
what is joy
if not with your hair falling across my breast
and my arms curled
somewhere around your upper torso
and your feet locked in mine
is warmed by the robs of your sensation
when not by your side
my eyes refuse to close
my muscles refuse to relax
so what is more profound
than when waking up
I kiss your neck
and turn into a lark
singing with my heart:
I am warm by your heart?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem