Love poems to a forty-year-old woman




Your ever-wakeful mouth, I know it

I throw it like a die in a corner,

Like a veil over my shoulder

To survive.


 Your ever-wakeful mouth is my good fortune in the library

My nose when it shines

My mouth when there is no escaping it

Without a kiss.



Insanity is another side

of my heart.

Distance is an illusion,

The illusion of loneliness and darkness.



Your heart is not here

It has been left in a flask on a table

It withdraws like a smile on my face

Your heart is a word.



 I understand the poem when I read it in your hearing

I love the poem with a woman's breath.



Your voice is like a puzzle

I have no position on it

Tender and inviting like a window in the city,

Your voice marks this moment for me,

Announcing a beginning.






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