The sun awoke to warm our skin
there, huddled in the tulips, you and I.
I kissed your throat and then your chin,
and heard from you tradition's sigh.
Fear did well up, unwelcome guest,
I could, my feelings gave their sly okay,
your lovely lips and mouth were pressed
against my hairy chest, I say!
I roamed now, drunk with love's own fumes,
not missing even one small spot.
Few recognise when greatness looms,
I drool and know your skin is hot.
I take possession now of grounds
that, rightfully belong to you,
your yellow ribbons, simple sounds
gave me the first important clue.
From memory, I do recall
saliva can be well supplied
but this is bliss, and Rome shall fall
before I reach the mountainside.
I drink now from the mountainstream,
the sun retreats, leaves us alone.
At dawn there will be peach and cream
the soothing sound of barytone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem