Like a secret behind hundred frills of fine soft wool,
with a crescent to embrace while longing for a full.
in the sun it shines and gladdens me with a lovely smile,
my nugget softly buried in a heating crumb pile.
unearth on my lap it appeals to my bleary sight,
my priceless companion in a windy lonely night.
A short-lived episode with a roughly defined arab crack,
as the dawn knocks, I carefully rest it in its comfy sack.
My beautiful ARAB, The Desert and The Gold,
what a befitting outfit for the mother lode.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem