Trace on the air of jasmine
night blooming,
dark and potent.
Trace on the lips of honey
leatherwood
astringent sweet
Trace on the cheeks of moisture
two teardrops
a gleam of salt
Trace on the heart of cupid
sore wounded
flowering blood
Trace on the soul of closure
circle formed
then sealed and shut
Trace on the life of passion
endless drink,
a finite cup.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem