When I die,
They shall place me in a pine box.
Then they will cover me in dirt,
And all shall be forgotten.
I will go there to mend.
I will go there to meditate
On your eyes, your lips,
Your love.
And I shall come in your
Sleep to anoint you
In ash, in rose,
In jasmine of sweet surrender.
We will walk in the garden,
And with a giggle and a slurp
I'll drink the loose tomato juice
From a neck I've always loved.
You will see me too,
With every sparrow that sings
To you, making itself
A stubborn fool in odd surroundings.
When the moonlight kisses
That soft cheek
And gentle orbs,
I shall gaze at you with all of my heart.
They will place you in
A marble flower pot
And plant you next to me.
We will be next door neighbors.
We will laugh
And we shall sing, and love.
My hand will graze your
Breasts, and you will blush...
For an old love
In a new love
Is sometimes the same.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You express the same kind of mad all consuming love for a woman that has gotten me into trouble all my life and never worked out. Still, it is worth it just for the endorphines in the brain. Great poem!