She Wants to Be a Woman

She is called Sophia.
No matter how thick her lips
is rouged with wisdom just like her name,
even though her whole life is given to God,
and her passion of feminism is being hidden in her breasts,
she wishes to be a woman in her heart?
Then her skin-deep body would follow.
That’s why she said to ordinary women
that sacred and sexual didn’t hate each other.
If she were a virgin, I would be happy but disappointed.
If she weren’t a virgin, I would be bitter but relieved.
Well, how could I pluck a star?
The only thing I could do is to fly
my kite high up in the sky
toward her bosom
that is yearning for being a woman?
Let her be,
if she looks soaked deep in sorrow.

I Wish I Could Pass Away In Your Bosom

While the title sounds a bit cheesy,
I should say her mind would be cheesier.
That’s why cheesy pop songs strike our heartstrings.
Good cheesy title for November…
I like cheese so won’t matter.

“I am here.” Her mind wants to speak,
hiding behind a tree,
having no choice but to gaze,
being buried in the silence hinting at farewell,
after she stops her beautiful gesture of her hands.

A woman with many regrets
who can’t cry even with pain
and can’t look back at me
when she is hit by a rock thrown by me.
‘Cause she knows if our eyes bump into each other,
There would be no turning back.

“If I could spend my last moment in your bosom…”
How fortunate that my bosom can hold only one woman!
My mind embosoms many women just like a king, though.

While I am seeing myself becoming cornier as I grow older
And enjoying rapture from tearing decades-old nobleness off myself,
I let go of another woman I created.