Finally you gave it a shape.
Cloted after a long voyage,
Voyage in the form of whiskey.
It've been through an icy desert,
Lost between the sun and the sand-dunes.
It was first discovered by your touch,
It was loveless till you melted inside,
It was useless untill your adorn,
It was amorphous and anemic.
You poured red-golden liquide inside,
In my chassis you coagulated it,
To make me beating and alive.
But it gets addled in absence of your aroma.
You smiled and said now its mine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem