Poppies burn like love under the sun that births longing

Poppies burn like love under the sun that births longing, Let me ask for forgiveness, to touch your face with light, To be your sunbeam, to be a halo on your delicate brow, To caress your skin with a sweet breeze, a zephyr that caresses the wheat, Let my smile seduce you, let longing flow over your waist. The evening wind gently blows over the field of burning poppies, The ripe bosom to be caressed by the almond-shaped eyes' eyelid, To lose ourselves among the fields in the fiery and ember sunset, On partridge wings, feel the yearnings that break through. A fire in our chests that scorches, disappearing for just a moment, Feel the ember of the eyes, the living longing slowly taking shape, I, enamored with you, feel through gazes how I lose you, To run to catch you in play, to gently caress you. I weave poppy flowers in golden rays and wheat spikes, To embrace you at my chest, to hear what the heart says, Mad with happiness, only the horizon to know our secret, To sip the dewdrops from the poppies in bloom. With my heart, I chase after your soft and hot lips, I want to unlock the magic in your black and gentle eyes, To cool our mouths by extinguishing the ember of burning eyes, From poppy petals to sip sweet whispers of love. The fleeting moment is a feast without a shadow of bitter regret, I lock your love in the chest of my penetrating heart, Listening to how happiness echoes from the field in trills, Forgive me for daring to steal your loving heart. I embroider with poppy flowers longings that burn deep in the chest, The secret thought refreshed in a carefully kept secret pocket, Forgive the heart's mistake if longing blinded me, Too sweet was the lure, too strongly it bewildered me.