Like wild young horses, lovers are.
Free of the bridle’s shackle-bar,
At first, they meet. Untamed, they balk,
That is until their pillow talk
At trysts eases their panting plight,
And they the bit of mating bite.
It’s then, harnessed by nights inflamed
With love, they tend their stalls, now tamed,
Behave themselves, ache when apart
And snap the reins on each one’s heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem