Thousand words of pleasure to be exchanged softly

Thousand words of pleasure to be exchanged softly

(Translation into an English poem of a poem written in French in the Occitan Sonnet form and as an Alexandrin. See original here or here)

July 31, 2016

Courtesy Marc Chagall

The substance of our dreams is like rustling of silk

An unreal resonance that my eye amplifies

Our meetings are so brief that I drown in sorrow

This meager nourishment making thirst for blotter

 

From nocturnal relay I preserve excitement

Of carnal deliverance received at later stage

Seasoned by the truces the Queen calls on her king

For further rejoicing to quickly lend her blush (For further rejoicing stark to lend her shadow)

 

Thousand words of pleasure to be exchanged softly

Of these unknown blushes (shadows) I compose beauty kit (I compose a keychain)

A large set of desires am I brunette, redhead?

 

From my flesh discovered resistance the burden

Thousand ills displeasure in corners that I push

Like an insane pitcher that is lost in water

 

Reading of the translated version of the poem: 

The Hours – The Kays Lavelle