Before you change
the sheets upon your feather
bed
you'd better read
her soft sweet
moist lips
they are telling you
the flowers are blooming
but the leaves are dead
the window is open
but don't look for me
because I am
somewhere else
and not where I want to be
I am
hanging
from a cloud
looking down
upon the sea
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem