hook me to the moon-tree
where the she-wolf sings
prize my soul
from it's oyster-shell
protesting where it clings
thread my song with pecking-birds
kissing hurts my eyes
a cat's paws dogs my insolence
as crazily it flies
arrow-heads are barbless
has Cupid lost his zing
then would deep white throats be artless
as distant murmurings
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very enjoyable read...