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.