I looked for your scent
in burning out green meadows,
in laying down warm darkness,
I looked for the eyes waiting.
I touched you with hands,
I was painting you in red
with the raspberry brush of the dawn,
and I was sprinkled by the colour of tenderness
of your lips’
burnt sugar sweetness.
And your embraces were melting me
into an impetuous brook
under you -
panting,
coiling.
I bathed you in the smell of ripe quinces
of the heavy
fruit of my breasts.
Among white of longing desires
I wanted the sunrise
to catch in my hands.
Reached out full of love
trustful hands
caressed me
with the whisper of the wind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
of your lips’ burnt sugar sweetness. Saccharine not sugar is the sweetness of your poems. This one is outstanding. Really making the KOMNATA in everyone's heart here.