We burn the morning in the drops of moonlight,
and the scents are offering themselves, as if they were river,
they flow through the warm cuttings of our thighs
and they skillfully lay the heath of embraces
across  the field of the bed.
The hull of ourselves echoes in the sighs, we kiss with fingers,
we extract every shiver of our groins and we put them into arms.

It's always so that in the circle of caressing
in the dawn we make love
and we soak the bodies with honey touches of red lips,
we circle through the intact in the space of a womb,
under the back we stretch the geometry of swollen passion
and we slowly swallow the calm light
in the beginning of the day.

With the sunrise, we flow in the nude above the breast,
some in the playing of clouds,
and some like the line of birch trees,
we reach the best bird areas and we flash with warble,
we strain the heights
and swayed in the golden nest of lust irrepressibly
we touch the sky and drink the blue.

Maybe our eyes are deceiving us, but than we quietly dream,
we whisper in the meadows
and with the strength of winds we immerse
entwined with slim corals in the depth of the sea we dream
and continue sinking deeper in the chambers of shells,
where we lay in the transparent breath of pearls and with the
shine we blossom.

Grown in the yellow of sunflower we start again
and we move gently with our hands towards the heart,
we open our lips,
we spread our pores and skin we unstoppably caress,
we visit the sunny valleys
and we collect the sun with our tongue,
we strain the fruit and turn that juice into the stream of passion.

With warmth of sighs we pour the dawn through the swale veins,
elated, at the table on fire we continue the sweet feast,
we enjoy in the fruit of the morning that grow in our bodies
and with every drop of the moonlight we expand more and
more with caressing,
treating with the sky and desire,
with air and dream at the same time.