You built me up, assured in your light's glow,
To bask thereat, as world lies at my feet,
I half believe my luck, the times that flow,
Still sweet, through nights of even hale and sleet;
Your tender touch, soft as the evening's dew,
On petals spread, yet without wetting through,
Just as suggest, your slier stares, though few,
With thoughts, though demurely unsaid, but true;
I might, of nectar sip, but not the best,
For little pecks that have regaled my check
In moments, when would hesitate and rest,
The night's goodbye, upon your lovely neck;
……..Sweetest of drinks, to which my dry tongue dips,
……..Could be that wine from cup that touched your lips.
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem