Give me wine and give me
Trinkets of gold.
Leap airplanes around me,
And sing to me songs that will
Never weep-
I will climb mountains.
I will sheer the golden sleep,
And look into your eyes as they swim,
And eventually drown into
Those dreams-
I am not a beautiful man,
But I still will run my winsome fingers
Across your tracks and
Seems-
I will glide across you like a paper airplane,
And I will nest inside you like
The crèche of a tremulous plum tree,
Or a star fruit tree,
Bitter sweet from all the things
That always need.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem