Do you remember the sweet long kiss,
That I planted on your rosy lips ‘my miss'?
The joyful trembling hands of yours around me I could sense,
I wasn't in the mood to let go as if it were the last chance.
Oh! How passionate the moment was!
The lovers of Keats' Grecian urn must have felt jealous,
Seeing us both as one,
Under the same, familiar sun.
Once again I want that bliss,
Requesting Mother Nature to close her eyes and let me kiss.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem