Libido/appetite/desire is a crazy risk
Which leads to a clash/battle of ways/streets.
Flight/escape is a dance on the mist/fog
And movements [same word as title] on the feather of a dove that disappears [the feather not the dove].
The voice/sound of the sea, an accursed city
And the moon laughs mockingly
Water alone knows the secret of drowning
And the wave is excellent at [ie the master of] improvisation.
The streets /roads/ways are barefoot [not sure if I got that word right]
And the rain becomes
Chatter/prattle of all this time
As long as we do not extract it/eradicate it
From our blood.
Adrenaline invades us
When our feet are nailed
By a grain/seed of kind ??????
[I know this bit makes no sense, sorry!]
Are you able to undress/strip my palm
Without dropping a kiss
Or a bomb shining?
[Play on words- kiss and bomb are quite similar words]
Knock... Knock... Knock... [Or tap]
From now on there are no doors
To this city.