Hand on mouth
Failing so wicked to contain
This subtle intense pleasure in pain
Through slender digits
See lips going up at ends
Wicked shameless brazen
Drift getting and gotten
Time after every time
Can't take another time
Too much fire in these soothsayer
Alchemists, philosopher, earth wanderer
Down go to that misty tree lined ladened impossible mysterious deep
Take time rolling over the tongue
Trumpet sounds big...you know how I feel..sounds like howling maniacal into the night
What waste it would lay bare
But for the ravenous feasting on the words of your offerings
Let them burn on the alter of the mighty penned
And let the smoke be a restfull scent
Of a satisfied man
At works end day
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a great poem my friend, keep it up