How do you want this body,
Without wanting its heart?
To long for sinews and bones,
Without yearning all of its parts?
How do you crave raw flesh,
And care not for its name?
Such beauty you've reduced,
To the thing between its legs.
How do you ravish its being,
Without uttering it's name?
This isn't love you are making,
You are only causing it pain.
But if Love calls not to us,
Then we must present ourselves.
Bodies for their taking,
Hearts long since shelved.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem