Who are you? —she said to me with a seductive voice
from under the sheets—while I removed
her transparent white top made of stars,
opened her legs and delicately
moved my fingers in a small lake on fire
I’m the mailman —I said—
who’s bringing you a letter and a rose,
but I made the serious mistake of losing both
after I had secretly opened the message to read it
as a punishment—I went on—
I was condemned to repeat each word to you,
that entire, interminable love letter
line by line, until the end of your days,
and as torture—I said finally—
to recreate for you the precise aroma
of the most beautiful of Carpe Diem’s rosebuds.
(Translated from Spanish by Nick H.Hill)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem