I would kiss your lips through sheer veneer
and drink the warmth inside.
While four corners of the wind my mind,
around the sky the bed of feathers made.
I will let you turn and twist my neck.
One night your raccoon eyelids shut.
I will fill your face beneath the moon.
Beneath a driving stead of living iron.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem