Call me crazy, for breathing your air in my chest,
and my body struggles with an impatient expectation,
in need of a dream, for accepting the reality,
thinking of me would be a speaking proof of temptation.

Talk to me in cadence, in a seductively deep tone,
for I can lay next to your voice, to fall asleep untroubled,
to listen how the rain knocks my window, in dreams to plunge in
while you are staring at me and leaving me unclothed.

Give silent orders to my body with your greedy hands,
your eyes are not having enough and keeps me craving too,
our lips merge into a hungry clutter and we are left
without breath, insatiable, in a world with love as its tattoo.

Then, let a cloud of sleep lay over your eyes
with smells of aphrodisiac, but extinguishing our fires,
retreating with a slight bow, like a real gentleman
shivered by a chill, but loving his girl, whom he admires.

I will not say
that my life was a shipwreck,
because I never forget to bring a pious tribute,
I'm always humming, even in the lifeboat,
singing in sad verses, but with so much fervor;
that for your rose I wanted to go back,
but the door was already closed.
And your pictures...
I put them in a scrapbook,
hoping not to seek love in reproaches,
in indifference, and I am able to make
my kind of review of life,
which in appearance should be clear,
without any minimal error,
wanting to be the only ambassador
of your heart and your body.

I will not say
that my shy eyes have also loved your eyes
from the first day of the spring when we met,
that through red roses and blooming bushes
secrets were lost in the air,
winking from the back of some delicate leaves,
and I saw two fireflies dancing,
trying to apologize for spreading the love
among the hopeless,
those who were rolling their tears of rain
in their exuberance,
softened by the perfume of the night
until it cracked for a new day,
with cheery souls,
wanting to make innocent jokes.

I will not say
that my elegant, velvety hand,
with tanned skin now, like bitter chocolate
cracks its unhappiness like a too heavy satchel,
and leaves it as a warranty in the desert of monotony,
that my hair was like the feathers of a croaking raven,
but invisible spiders put their laces around my eyes,
while I had my lips whispering your name, sighing forever,  
loaded with a tone of sincere, tender syllables.

But I'm gonna tell you
I've been snoozing in the abyss of love
and this caused us a temporary blindness
in the heart and reason,
and without wanting,
two tears that have been restrained for so long,
one of yours, one of mine,
made our souls united,
and we thought we were able to go both further,
not knowing whether, how, when, where
to play one last card.

I believe in the naive love that corrupts my heart,
in the volcano of numb emotions that falls apart,
in the sweet comfort, the one from late nights,
I believe in the words of my "still" unwritten sights.

I believe in emotions carried by the sweltering wind,
in you, for you've never given up, or let yourself be thinned,
in your paintings, painted in black and white or mute,
I believe in the silence that listens to your hush in the dispute.

I believe in the steam of the coffee as a trophy of caffeine,
in the healing of the wounded soul, without any morphine,
in the roads that led me once towards you, from the stars above,
I believe in remembering, in the feeling of true love.

And I believe in the sewing of hearts, the wiping of tears,
in the walking of the soul, the defeat of sweet fears,
in the sacred angels who walks beside you smoothly,
in gestures that can be read step by step. That moves me!

I believe in the couple who loves without searching for any reason,
in summer's hot stones, or lazy spring that follows its season,
in the stomachs where the butterflies are thrilling like crazy,
I still believe in the charm that fails to become immune and hazy.

I believe in the enthusiasm of being in love, in all of its forms,
in the shy and unblemished spring, and the thunderstorms,
in the iris of my so-called romantic eyes, like the blue sky,
in the wings of angels, the ones who never die.

Will I be able to believe tomorrow?

I received a letter, written on a brown piece of paper,
with my name beautifully written in a diagonal line,
it said: “-Sweetheart, please keep a dance for me!
A first important dance at a traditional wedding! Be mine!

Let your black hair fall in waves, in messy, loose curls!
For I can bathe forever in the dark blue of your eyes!
Let's have the Sun, the Moon, and thousands of stars invited,
for our love will endure, it will burn in fire in the skies!

Let me enjoy that dance until the last signs
of your smile that will contradict me in deep silence,
not to get scared by the force of other mannered fellow,
I want to live the sweet life and reach out to the horizons!”

Breathless sweat began to burn my cheeks,
having the smile as lightning in the darkness of the night,
the heart bounced for a while, then began to lament
for the fear of flying towards the sky, holding me tight.

“-You will forget that dance, as if nothing had happened
on the unbeaten territory of the heart on some maps,
the colourful laughter will turn into an immaculate white
because love is worth living, don't ever let it collapse!”

Reach out your hand, take me into your palms
for one second or a minute of the leaking time,
listen to the rhythm of my heart from reckless Brahms
losing me in the labyrinth that touches me with its eye.

Open my heart's buttons to see its full nakedness,
loving me as if tomorrow morning you would lose the bets,
give him a spark, for his passion to reanimate, making us
forget about you, about me, about all our regrets.

Take me into that chamber bathing in the nuances of fire,
take the body that now is incapable of self-control,
let the music in the background comfort my hearing and inspire,
waiting until the ice melts in my heart and my soul.

Love me with a body that no longer thinks of anything new
bearing the mark of an acute and fine sensuality of a dove,
enveloped by the appetizing flavour that worries you
in this ritual of the pantomime from the game of love.

Dare me with your fingers that traces on my shoulders
lines that for a few moments are burning me, consuming me
with the intensity of the eye that fixes me, it marks me,
making me lose the last morsel of my mind, foolishly.

I would not resist your spontaneous urge to touch my bust
with your penetrating glance or emotions, awakening, letting me be,
with a burning temptation that's not extinguishing that crazy lust,
nor under the breath of night that would sneak in unconsciously.

I'm your woman...lose me in whispers, in a caress,
teach me the steps towards me with and beside you,
wait for me on an edge of a sun ray from sky's address
and tell me you're afraid too...of yourself...of me...of the new.

I'm your poetry...sketch me as beautifully as you can
with dots, with commas, slowly, to make me feel the intrigue,
write me in many capital letters, speak me warmly as my man,
make me hear how your soul shouts me in echoes, not fatigue.

I am your perfume...smell me softly and gently as I cry,
pour on my forehead and on my lips profound kisses,
listen how you beat in my chest and make me fly,
and take care of your sadness on the nocturnal pieces.

I'm your air...breathe me as deeply as you can,
to adjust, to resonate as two sad violins from heaven's band,
with the sip of pure love falling from your heart on the divan,
we will write our silent hush...just the two of us, hand in hand.

I'm your ardent desire...in well-hidden hugs on the shore,
wearing for a long time a pair of stolen angel wings,
wiping your cheeks from wrinkles that are sore,
denying the idea of being passengers pulling the strings.

Somewhere around here, I learned to speak through silence.
Probably when our hearts loved each other truly.
Just heartbeats in the eyes, teasing and sweet replies,
in the yard of my soul now a tear started to flow.

On my cheek crystal beads are dripping stronger,
the ice inside me is melting and it has no idea
that he wants you to stay! Don't go! Wait a little longer!
Today is about Us and we're climbing up to Ave Maria.

But my heart is spreading mute unspoken words without control,
you're not here, and there's no one to listen to my thoughts
how a He and a She is melting into an amazing whole,
they want the same Tomorrow looking to each other's hearts.

So, spread seeds of dreams on my lips until morning,
and I'll taste you, breathe you, I'll be your virtuous singer
singing at the wedding of the butterflies in the stomach
and convert your black into an immaculate white in the winter.

Just lie to me nicely, tell me you're gonna love me in tears
until the white flakes of old age will begin to fall acute,
even if we are pressed by the weight of many years,
we should want more in life, not to remain mute.