i find it funny when you write about the idea that you love the earth because of its brown color.
Brown like the soil, like the bald mountains due to the massive cutting of trees.
I detest this idea. This dirt. This muddiness when the earth drinks to much water from the rain. This dusty places when the sun castigates the face of this place.
i persist on the idea that brown is not poetic.
Until one day i met this brown body under the light of the moon beside the river
rising from its night ritual.
The brown body gleams under the golden light of the moon. Nude, facing me
as i salivate like a dog seeing a bone not having eaten for days.
Brown is beautiful Brown is exciting.
I ejaculated on such beauty. Satisfied, i lie on the brownness of the earth
longing for more.
It is not dirt. It is love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem