Birds

Beloved, the black swans of my eyes
Are loosed to your behest,
And must I still keep caged from you
The white swans of my breast?

My hands, like slender pigeons,
Flutter the whole day through.

Did you not know the little things
Home unto you?

My lips, like slim canaries,
Sing when I hear you speak.
Beloved, bend and stroke once more
The finches of my cheek.
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.