Her sudden touch has toppled one into consciousness...
Where has sleep left we...
Where has thy bean left its pod...
Where has this detergent left its surds...
Where have this audience not gathered to rouse My applaud...
I have tried keeping to our English but these lines keep slanting into Their French, My Roi...
Let me dance to them spirit drums that enchant our waist and steps...
Her softness has with this Hardness Clashed...
Passion has stolen two hearts...
Entwining both into one...
As I write to thee from these spirit lands mind me not...
Even if a little bump occurs on them grammaticus compilus, Still sign we on...
Aha Little tingled splashes...
Inviting Eyelashes...
Time for Quails to take them Leave...
Passion stole only one Sacred heart...Yours followed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
extreemly deep. well done