Within the arc of hot lights,
Surrounded by rhythm
He smiled at me.
Later, in the shadows,
He lit my cigarette
And we talked.
It couldn't last.
Our probing questions
And searching lips
Found not
The answered desired.
Now he sits in the glare
And I in darkness stare,
As my body moves
To the pounding beat,
And I ache
For what could not be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem