Nastasimir Franović

Dubrovnik 12.04. 1960.
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Your breasts are like two full moons
Like two buds
At the end of your hair curl
I hear my heart groaning for your love

In my wish, I'm so miserable
Looking into your eyes thirsty for love
In your two springs so clear
And you're so young in your soul pure

It's too much to give me even one day
Looser has nothing to give you
Beggar, I would remain worthless to your love

And if that word would pass over your lips, then what?
To touch those two full moons?
No, not even then my heart wouldn't stop groaning
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