Moist lips caress my neck,
cold tickles, my sleepy eyes open.
Stuck between the Estate and dreams,
I wait for the heavens to stop.
Soon came the chills,
and the stutters, the old longings.
My softened truth wails now, battered;
a warm bed, silk and soft.
My confused lie needs now, music;
a flute of wine, bubbly and smooth.
My pores open now, ready;
for the warmth, a glowing hearth.
My heart aches now, love;
her bosom, full, firm and tender.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice romantic expression of the passion.