glooming belly (eng)

I would make love to you harshly and bitterly to penetrate, impregnate and yield the lonely minds of the world.

We could open the vicious circles through making the circular waves upon the lake surfaces with the tips of our toes.

Our children would escalate toward these surfaces gazing onto the parallel stairs in motion of their generation.

We would be the parents to infinite links and stretch our uncalm throughout the road to sightsee our souls as we get old.

And, in spite of where we would be, we would open our mouths to speak and be heard, as our words would finally loose any reference to the outer world and transform itself to the pure vowels as we would make love to each other to yield the streets we were once observing in solitude.