Cold apple red, so fresh,
I want to bite you
And savor your very flesh.
Spill seeds through
Every night and day
And make you feel astray.
Your juicy body tastes
Sweet and bitter,
Your royal red skin sweats
Sugar running river.
Peel smooth and body firm,
Perfect to grab and turn.
Once bitten you shake
A mix of pleasure and pain
Runs deep in your veins,
Before the day breaks
And make us feel good,
As it always should.
Too bad that you grow so far
And mature away.
When the sun shines it's first rays,
An apple sparks like a star,
Only in the north to be bound,
Rare in the south around.
I'll never forget your flavor
Because there's nothing alike.
I dream, in everyday of labour,
About finding you on my next hike.
I wish I could be your root tree,
Even though you're born to be free.
This fruit always had it's choice.
So with my old raspy voice
I'll sing this poem out loud
To everyone in the crowd,
And say, maybe out of tune,
That I still miss your perfume.
--
Em inglês desta vez, talvez tenha erros de concordância(correções?), ou não.
É a terceira versão desse poema, agora acho que ficou bom, espero que goste. :)
