Lonely eyes,
downcast and averted
from seeing beauty,
fail to notice
a bouquet of stars
dancing drunkenly
in the intoxicated sky.
In secret chambers
near the sea,
we should sanctify our love
with wine and prayers.
I'm searching
for sacred words
and flowers
that utter poetry.
We could walk uninjured
on streets of flame
as long as we recall
first embraces
and tree-lined avenues
where we kissed.
I'm revealing code
in flashing candlelight;
meet me again
by the tattoo parlor
and the motorcycle shrine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem