Dearest you would so think to speak
with me here laying
next to me.
Easter rabbit lays souls eggs of
sand inside of you.
wrapped up long so history gets
a view of you.
Apple thoughts come running
way from view.
Renaissance from my bed was
made for
souls to sleep a slumbering sleep
of dreams.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem