Red blood of an exotic Woodbine
lights again at the gates of the winter
in the gardens and among the stubbles,
where it pierces thick veil made by mist
Vivid purple flares up so much violent,
as if be woman’s flesh grown up turgid
that screams looking for love satisfaction.
I see lips tremble, lying in the grass
Red and green: that’s the life resurrection,
and is filled with beauty at the dawn
till the evening when I come back home.
I’m in love and desire you tonight
October, 16th 2017