Between sheets lost to the world, burning,
I lay down, frantic with overflowing passion.
My stifled laughter, wrapped in them,
My naked breasts, sheltered by them.
On the Tower of Pisa, in dreams I rested,
St. Petersburg, in my mind was drawn,
Nights in Paris, in my favourite corner,
But still in the early mornings, the cushion stresses me.
Oh, sweet cushion that bends my back,
Silent witness to my sleepless nights.
Your uncomfortable presence, a constant reminder,
Of dreams that slip away, fleeting like the wind.
But who can fight fate,
When the heart beats with such inanity?
Though your presence disturbs me and squeezes me,
In your arms I take refuge, till the dawn.
