Tarifa

Tarifa

The ground is opened,
Her mouth is quenched
By the dry rain,
Laid bare in that month
Of her ( wet) breasts,
Suckled on the gulf streams
In Her flooded loins, and
Wrapped on the currents
Lying in his arms.
Her soft skin scented,
Touched and stroked,
Lie Quivered on the finger
Of forget me not-
And lingered (long),
By The dark sea
Song,
She sings
That drowning
sailor's song.