If I asked myself: “what do women want?”
I might find on your shelves an everlasting poem,
The slow drumbeats of bliss, — heaven built on earth.
Perhaps I will find a rain
A mendicant dancing in the rain
A mermaid singing a cruel song of pain
For this wretched man with no end
Wishes that command
Life without the strokes of despair.
I would find an aim
Lost along the way
The forbidden fruit of Eden
Savoured on the cursed day.
As I asked myself
What women wanted
I heard your tiny little voice saying:
“It is a word
It is a whirl
It is a world
I feel when your lips softly
Beneath our sheets.”
Gilles Fabien Dogbo