If every drop has been-tasted
-and seasoned with love.
Not even the bones of love
the perspiration-of-passion is, wasted.
Not one more drop on my lips,
could quench the fires we've ignited.
I long to dance in our ashes,
bathe in the afterglow of our cinders.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Mark, such a lovely poem...10+++