Roving back through the wild centuries,
At both rust and ripeness time,
To land blood-wet, with martyrs fed,
A water melon still conceives
What alone bears peace - a sweetheart,
Storing Summer's blood, with its timber-scent...
Each slice is meant for your lifetime sweet,
Munch as you would grapes or savouring kisses.
Her only hope: wish for nothing on earth,
Save eternal be her internal love's season,
So that every man wishes
He were in her place.
This is a variation on the poetry
by Yoonoos Peerbocus on poemhunter-dot-com
'A Water Melon's Truth', copyright 2009.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem