and when one asks
of whom from who
i ask of you
and if i as you know
i would
and so come, 'dear
to know me, as i would you
and in your hands
would i be your slave
to me when you
as thoughts they leave me
this passion roars and burns
as you the hottest red
like gloss upon your lips
and mine
is that fire and even the bird of paradise
whom rests inside it's cage
grows even more excited
when you come home and stay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem