an evening of poetry
goes beyond words and images
beyond thought
beyond what we care about
darkness fingers itself in the room
when you turn off the light
moans suppressed
like a poem restrained from a loud reading
because
something is so beautiful
and someone
tiptoes
not to destroy
the arrangement of the furniture
too careful
not to break a code
of the white porcelain
one speaks sub rosa
in whispers because love is too private
to savor.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem