The moisture of your lip box has turned into a salt pit

Love poems from Tashkent

I had seen the rose of your face.
And I was confused inside.
I thought of the splendour of your curls.
I was - my senses - confused.
The moistness of your lips I had touched,
I soaked them up, and thought,
How wonderfully sweet they are.

But, as it now turns out, my love,
they are a pit of salt.
My heart, O beloved,
Has turned into a salt cellar.

The friend, a slender-grown sapling,
Has asked for me.
I whirled around her head a hundred times.
I kissed her on both eyes.
And my suffering received its medicine.

Manuskript zur Sendung

Cast & Crew

Director
Uli Aumüller
Producer
Alexander Schumacher