The fate's warning
is warming
my desires, through her lonely eyes,
the black curtains' stars lies,
as he tries,
showing in the ball
the lovers’ role.
On the backside you hide your confession,
a whole string session,
such a lovely impression.
Hush!
It's a secret you might regret.
My spell I'll cast,
if I must,
on the future's forecast.
Well, at last,
he knows she is a rose,
but, and that's a deep cut,
we are framed by the Rex
of Sex!
No, that's not true,
it's just you
being down and blue
and what can I do?
It is so hard
and after all it's just a postcard!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem