Your body
shipwrecked
by the wild wide waters of sleep
thrown upon me
as if I were an unknown shore
your breast
cast up upon my chest
like a survivor
wondering: 'What place is this? '
I gather it
in my palm
whisper to it:
'This is Illyria, madame'
'And I...am Love! '
The morning discovers us
speaking with the language of
sunlight and birds
your breast
still asleep in my palm
a smile
spread across your face.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Alluring piece Donall, I like it. worth the 9.