Heaven is my ex- motherland, my lebensraum
I built a log-house to live in—to live in an acre of green grass;
I love the dell where I built a sunset city, the twilight never dies
In the crimson flavor, the beautiful lips half-parted with a hope,
Desire quivering with expectation of moments and moments stitched
In a wreath of being and not being- -give me only two spoonfuls of love
Give me a pinch of love to live with a spoonful of dream in this world
Of bare flesh, mucous membrane and this bare existence,
Of living forever in a dead soul, what other meaning life can have than
Living with two spoonfuls of love and the eyes with glow of another dimension.
You are, sweet-heart, you are and I did not find heart in my brain.
Clasp my hand, hug me tight, and let me enter the desire before the night ends.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem