like falling rain
hitting a yam leaf,
round drops sliding
to the tendrils
of a vine
like water leaking
from a roof
saved by
a tin can
(remember poor
Basho's poem
while he was trying
to sleep
on a rainy day)
like the sound of lips making a kiss
of the ten fingers of the hands sliding
on thighs
down to the most sensitive
part of the human body
the vulva &
the glans
in mutuality of
accepting the rule
of desire
making the most out
of the last remaining
moments of
love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem