It does when it sparkles.
Nuggets uncovered covert like these.
Heavy like it also in your palm.
Instinctively some of the larger ones are.
Does your face shine like mine thus so.
Labored breath dry dust wet gold.
Even through the window when the sun.
Fingers move the larger ones aside in hopes.
Like the tunnel the mine where it rests.
Inside of it where the light from my head.
Upon their breasts they rest them.
But more like those come up from below.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem