Accessing only via excess
lovers only of the nicest rockmelons,
realise their joy must be shared,
for there are more of those lovers
than there are rockmelons to go around;
lovers made all the more ardent
in the wait for the seasonal fruit
and in the in-season scarcity
of nicest-ness.
Lovers die to the niceness of melons
whose waves of cry after cry after cry...
beat the shore of the sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem.....Douglas....I have to comment on your cantelope comment.....I made up a joke once where I asked what fruit always has to have a church wedding......tadum......the can't elope.....ok enough with the tomatoes See ya