As a slave between his hands,
Trembling with tasting desires
In that darkend room
A bit lightend with thee body,
Exposed on as a Picasso' paint
.
Breaths, were the longing voices
That echoe within the rhythm,
His magical words teasing my feelings
Stop! Oh don't stop
Were the only words, my ears conciderd
It was late, my soul cried for more
The night comes to an end
My heart urged for no mercy!
The savagery was his pseudonym.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
great poem...keep it up: D