Draped across my tongue
Its bitter core
Its rotten flesh
Stops me from saying
"Je vous adore mon beau,
Plus que vous saura jamais .
Je veux que vous soyez miens,
This fountain breaths no life
Author note: This was a little challenge I set myself, to write a poem with restrictions. I set some with the use of a random choice and some were set for me. The total was 6 being:
No more than 7 syllabels a line
No caffine drank the days I write the poem
A non-english stanza
To include a taste/food idea
Have no two stanzas of the same number of lines but retain flowin the work.
I do apologise for my translation, please inform me if it is incorrect or makes no sense.