My lavender candle has been lit
By Curiosity's sensual match.
The yellow but young flame bows -
In the lovable dark - to Privacy.
Then - it stands back up again for reluctant show.
Tell me: Which is the way to go?
Invisible green leaves
Work their way - on a vine -
Around the open window:
A display created by the senses themselves.
They almost invite the wind in too. The wind of Certainty.
I stand in Femininity's angelic
Nightgown - Barefoot and loving it.
'Where's my mirror? '
'Is it vain to ask? '
I turn to the side and utter discretely to Curiosity.
She runs her imaginary fingers
Through my curls as if they were hers.
Then - I imagine that she utters back:
'All you can do is imagine my reply.'
'No need to hide our flame of a friendship any longer.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem