You are the cover of my favorite book.
& when you open up I am at peace
There isn't a spot of you that I won't
Explore.
From your open arms to your open legs.
We are spontaneous.
In the places we travel.
My fingers but a mark to hold the page.
From my eyes to my hands
I always have time for you.
We are spontaneous
No matter where we are.
No matter who is around
From your open arms to your open legs.
You are the cover of my favorite book.
Your spine stretched against my hands
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
When a bookworm wants to describe the woman he loves, it makes sense that he would liken her to a book. Lovemaking is spontaneous, and comparing the beloved to one's favorite leisure-time activity is also spontaneous. A 10!