Breasts Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Breasts
A picture, as they say
is worth considerably more
than vulgar words.
It came, unbidden
like the wind of change
and whispered urgently
into expectant hands
to turn themselves into
two eager beavers,
erect a dam
to please the gods
and their erotic angels
on worship day,
when all would congregate
on their majestic rise,
Mons Pubis as the shadow
for the valley of insanity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/20/2024 5:51:08 AM # 1.0.0.1119
