If looks can kill, I am
Dead already, for yours
Tear a woman's heart
Into two.
If love is a mystery, write
My story in faint ink, so you
Can go over the writing over
And over, for your touch writes
On me a story, fit to be told
To the few, who have tasted the
Honey etched onto me, by the
Movements of your dance moves.
I know my jokes crack you up,
And as your looks do likewise,
Let us die one joke, one giggle
At a time. The world waits to
Know where this will end one day,
At a time, son of an elder.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem