Your feet floated up from the floor and your skirt slipped from my hold as you went searching for the pathway Upon seeing your lovely shape the sugar canes cast themselves in the road hoping you would grind them as though you were a mill.
Touch me... Your breasts, flesh of a breadfruit your mouth, a blessing of ripe guanabana and your beautiful, curvy waist reminding me of that 'danzón' I'm still simmering, from the 'danzón'
Touch me? Afterwards the dawn takes you from my arm And I, not knowing what to do About that scent of woman, Of mango, and of fresh sugarcane That brought me to the hot Jam of that dance