To hold your slender body in my arms is a definition of joy,
And though you cannot know it, a temporary appeasement of ache.
It is so nice, and so difficult to kiss you –
I know you have allowed such affection between us only in your moment of sorrow.
But now I have a memory of skin soft as marshmallow,
Of eyes like black fire, and hair like a windswept field of corn.
This will be my sanctuary when we return to home and healing
From the pain of this strange waking dream.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem