Why do you smoke in my face?
If I am sleeping on
Your rosy lips
Why do you want to talk?
If your skin
Is melting ice,
Transformed into
Cloud;
Then, into rain that
Washes my face.
Why do you need
Your legs,
Arms,
And your chest?
If you already made a good deal
To offer them to me;
Once I nurtured them
And they nurtured me,
They betrayed you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem