As you pause a little to think over
as to how to manoeuver an answer
to my desire for a kiss so queer,
words on your lips dry up quickly
like a flower in dull, dreary Summer
before falling into a sudden stupor
when drops of rain moisten them
at the edge, arousing their hunger.
Who cares for words under rain dear
when it's accompanied by a sweet shower?
Who cares for the nod from eyes under a cloudy sky
or for an invitation from blushing cheeks
when lightning of love pervades like a fire
to silence thunder of lips
under heaven's shadowy bower?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem