What I'd do for another whisper from that voice,
Pleading, bleeding, calling out for my choice.
Say' it'd been the wrong waist—a waste
Within horses of troy, chasing a pace
Now void.
Rejoice.
You've taken this, ran away with it, coy.
Can't stop to think about any other toy.
Sensed the outing on a hunt—being prey
Sounded fun; the noise
Brought pleasure to the poise,
Once begun,
Alloyed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem