What I feel for you is beautiful and sincere,
perverse too, for I do not train myself
to be like you. Your enchanting love
I like it, and I do not alienate myself from your disaster.
Your lips with mine in a passionate spell,
with the scent of adolescent love,
songs of green crystal that I still do not slip,
seeking to show you my soul fervently.
It only occurs to me to love you in the warmth
of your smile and your ardent arms,
to give you my being with deep love,
to melt us in a kiss without gags.
Let me quench this passion that binds me,
and drink of your essence, ungrateful beloved.
