translated from topher Logue

    Drunk as drunk on turpentine

    From your open kisses,

    Your  body wedged

    Bet body and trake

    Of our boat t is made of flowers,

    Feasted,  - our fingers

    Like talloal -

    Over t rim,

    t breath in our sails.

    Pinned by tice

    And equinox, droangled together

    e drifted for months and woke

    itter taste of land on our lips,

    Eyelids all sticky, and we longed for lime

    And the sound of a rope

    Lo dos hen,

    e came by nigo tunate Isles,

    And lay like fish

    Under t of our kisses.