a peacock
spreads its colors
on its feathers
the other one
its plumes and
calls
on the trees in
the mountains
and we know what
flirting is
even without having
to give
any number...
there is no need
to confess
nothing to say
in the same manner
when no is said...
when that offer for
love or sex
is refused, you should
know perfectly....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem