Idille
« Hiver. Je voudrais être avec toi, à côté d’un feu » /Dotremont/
Hailstones in high-heel shoes are tapping
On my window
Flames in flagrant red skirts are dancing
In the tile stove
One raven-plume’s lying on the ethereal snow,
My panting body on the petalfacile pillow.
You put away my glowing hair from my visage
Playing with your slender fingers on my stem’s harp
Caressing my mellow, moonlight-silken skin
Kissing my breasts-two round pearls- softly.
Your lips are tender, delicious snowflakes
While your teeth icicles, sharp and petit
They become absorbed in my naked flesh
And slowly melt in my blood, scarlet-fervent.
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