1. Arousal: When Love First Stirred
It began not with thunder,
Nor with roses strewn in spring—
But a glance across the silence,
Like a feather touched a wing.
He watched her shape the morning
With the blush of dawn's first light,
She watched him tame the tempest
And stride fearless into night.
No words were needed, none were dared—
Just breath that thickened air,
The pause between a question's lips
And hands not yet aware.
Her laughter spilled like golden wine,
He drank without a cup.
She bent to lift a fallen star,
He knelt and offered up.
Their orbits danced in widening rings,
Then slowly tightened thread—
She moved with art, he moved with fire,
And both were gently led.
She touched his brow—a storm grew still,
He touched her throat—she sighed.
Each gesture, like a secret key,
Unlocked the worlds they'd hide.
A single pulse, a whispered flame
Ran through the veins of space—
Not lust, but something deeper grown
From trust and slow embrace.
Her perfume was not flowers alone,
But memory and moon—
He knew he'd fought a thousand wars
To come to her this soon.
And when her gaze met his again,
Both hearts began to burn—
The war was over—not with peace,
But passion's bold return.
Love had risen, not in haste,
But rooted, raw, and true—
Aroused not just by touch or taste,
But what each soul once knew.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem