Somewhere there is a place
where a lovely girl writes love letters
between four walls, a ceiling and a floor,
and somewhere there is a park
with lions, bears and leopards
where I wish we could meet
and kiss
as she leans upon a tree
with closed eyes, and sun mingled in her hair
with clothes dripping from the rain,
and the sound of the rain, like a fanfare,
and in my pockets, poems
that I've been writing
to make myself something else
to make myself brave,
and to make the world disappear
when I close my eyes
and think of how ugly I am when I look
into the bathroom mirror.
Somewhere, outside
cars are chasing one another
going home, or going away from home
their shadow
silently glides above her naked chest
on the four walls and on the ceiling of a room,
and I think of falling in love with her,
but I don't know if she would fall in love with me too
or at least allow me
to return here, to make love to her again.
Somewhere
I make love, without buying flowers
and my words and hers, I keep for myself
and no one thinks
of how ridiculous I am.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
So powerful with wanting! Comes from deep inside. Nicely written!