Unicorns in the soft meadow
Fogs,
While Alma is letting off of making
Love,
Dousing her steams and elated
Screams,
She will increase again into
Shopping malls,
Deciding again on the
Garments who will
Jubilee her pitch perfect
Skin,
While I will work for her
All day long,
Working over the genii in his
Brown bottle,
Until I have done something right,
And so deserve to call her home,
To play with her the lucky games
Of coins and of flowers
Of our love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Like all your poetry this to I adore!