If this cascade tumbles to where you
Hibernate, it will wash over you until your sleeping
Lips become a flower:
And when they yawn spring time,
I will carry my lunch to the valleys beneath you,
And partake in the sunlight pouring across
Your threshold,
And bask in the ecstasy every way that I can
With you
Looking down and yawn—
Carrying me in a basket of your meadows
As if I knew something about being a child
Of your heart
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is simply beautiful. Have read you and read you and this is simply magic! My best to you, Theo