it is passion
without it it is nothing
it is feeling winding up
running looking for an
opening and then if contained
it bursts
it is an emoticon
sad, happy, exhilarated,
burning, wriggling
dancing, wild, making love,
resting after love,
smoking and gazing
finding a home finally
in the silence of
its fulfillment.
it is never propaganda.
never an advertisement
not even an autobiography
everyone relates
and at the end begins to
imitate it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem