And our love is wrinkled cotton
Soaked in old sweat
Other times smooth as satin
Or slippery as processed silk
Some times it screams red
Or pales sky blue heaven
Or still mellow as green grass
Or it is again yellow envying
The cows dribbling fresh milk
In a pasture far from me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem