A dusk of burned plum comes on.
The mottled toucan snores.
Two cats jump from chair to chair.
A radio plays Ja-Da. Ja-Da.
Idle, a man and woman sit divided
by a bowl of paraffin fruit
as though drifted out to Pitcairn
or lost with puffins in the Hebrides.
What kiss do you seek
in my shining eyes?
Speak lover,
as though it is important
to more than just one.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem