he wakes up on
a vivid nightmare
the way he crosses
the river against the
rage of the tide and
he sees her sleeping
and he wakes her up
and she listens about
the sound of the river
and the thunder and
the wind and the
flashes of lightning
inside his frightened
mind and she holds his
hands and raises them
for her to kiss and then
they talk like lovers again
and then they make love
sleep is as gentle as
the silky bedsheets and
the soft cotton pillows
on the monotony of the
sound of the air conditioned
room. And then it is morning
she opens the window
where a pale red curtain
filters the light that lands
on his eyes still soundly asleep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem