When the sun fills the moon
even the face turned away icy hot
night and day cold as ice.
Gay spicy water foam death on the rocks.
I wait for the breasts I'm the beast of all beasts.
Blood runs from the better half that poor boy.
And all the good girls,
how they wait under the tree watching it rise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem