Near the end of the scherzo
She experienced an ecstasy she
Had never known.
She hoped for an encore,
Longing for the next movement,
Body taut with ancitipation.
“It is all in the tongue, ” he explained,
Wiping his lips carefully
And putting away the instrument.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I absolutly concur, it's all in the tongue. Smiling, Jerry