You lay naked on the bed,
stretched out on your back,
with the room’s window open wide
as if you are trying to catch the breeze,
while the sun is touching the mountain top
the last time in the late afternoon
and I see your breasts moving up and down
while you breathe, where you lay with legs wide open
where sunlight is falling on the little hairs
totally unaware of your shame,
so as if you are only a little girl
while you sleep on
and I draw a light coverlet over you,
before the dusk catches you
with a sudden chilliness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem