Two flexible bodies in the dim light of a nightlight
Two supple bodies in the dim light of a night lamp:
His strong hand glides over her skin.
She lies spread beneath him, She trembles…
The night conjures wondrous sweetness and passion.
Two bronze bodies merge into one.
And even if they are not destined to be together—
Her breast rises lightly, quivers.
Embraces tighter. Moans… A sweet sinful path.
And as in a strange, mysterious prayer,
She eagerly reaches for you with her whole body.
A thrust… in a mad dance, she drinks the wine of love,
And she does not care what fate has decreed…
Anfisa Chekhova
And She does not care what fate has decreed…
And the sweet wine of love has been drunk to the last drop.
On the crest of a passionate wave in that madness,
In tight embraces, their souls and bodies are entwined.
Embraces tighter, tighter, moans, a cry,
And happiness in that mad night is but a moment.
Under the dim light near the bedside night lamp,
His hand on Her, Her hand resting on Him.
Entwining of legs, entwining of tender souls,
In the heat of embraces, away from winter's cold of separation.
Two supple bodies in the gleam of the moon,
On the bed, wearied by wild passion in the night.
And reason spins and in the spinning, the head,
From the strong wine of love drunk to the last drop.
In disrobed state, You pressed against Him, naked,
And the house is filled with unbridled passion.
And in the night's silence, there is no one else,
Only the beat of His beloved heart.
And the closeness of the two lovers was witnessed by the full moon,
Through the window, in that dim light near the bedside night lamp.
A. A. Kiselev
28. 03. 09