Over your beautiful body,
my plane landed with passion...
I don't know what was the origin of its fuel? ?
Is it the electricity of your touch! !
or the fire of the wine between your lips! !
The weather was so foggy
from the descent of cigarette smoke…
Mixed with drops of hue drawing over the roses of your breasts.
Circles and circles…
The light was that of a small shy candle
showing me the way in the darkness of February...
And the noise emerging from our deep breaths
found company among soft western music …
collectively breaking the chain of quiet...
Over your beautiful body...
my plane landed contently and joyfully! ! !
Wael Karameh
March,2004
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sorry to say but I love to read it again and again. Very creative. triste