Passionate song of Phil Throaten

Let me kiss you to the bone.
Fling yourself into moist hollow,
Gather autumn leaves to cover
Our dwelling. Later on
There will be no need to hurry,
There will be no need to borrow
Gentle touch, no time to loan.
Let me kiss you to the bone.

No? No answer.
“No” is not an answer.

Let me flee into your ears
With a song of sirens, with a
Noisy sound of discotheque.
Future comes through ancient pillars,
In a form of handsome wizard
Takes your scent, takes you aback.
Leaving emptiness in mirrors.
Let me flee into your ears.

No, you wouldn’t. No, you can’t.
“No” as answer doesn’t count.

Let me linger on your breasts,
Finding calm as tired artist
Well beyond all pros and cons,
In the sky with evening bells,
In the sea with lonely whales.
Let me in until old priest
(who quite rarely postpones
visits) starts performing mass.
Let me linger on your breasts.

“No” - that's what you think.
"No" as answer makes me sick!

Let me cling to your skin
As fabric or silk,
Plough your back in an agony.
As barbarian king
Tearing tissue and spilling like milk
Women flash in the town of his enemy,

See, the time is torn.
That’s the point of no return.

Curtains. Let me look at you
Swiftly, morbidly, insanely,
On the bench of swinging boat.
As you leaving avenue
I am convoyed down the valley,
Shot under the starry vault.
I will soar at time of dew,
With no one to bid adieu.
Curtains. Let me look at you.


Рецензии