Your eyes are so deliciously clever;
Always pouting, sometimes begging, discreet,
Beneath a tuft of burgundy hair,
Like pools of water
In a willows shade,
The weaving fronds; pulling me down
Into the brine and peat.
Drowning is such a pleasure
When your end is the sea,
And you're fading slowly away
Gasping for air.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh, my. How very nice...and hot. The title had me smiling. Enjoyed