My precious poet,
This evening I am in Istanbul.
It is raining gently.
I am having a glass of ninety-nine-year-old wine
And thinking about you.
I am wet and wicked.
I remember that
You love to hear the sound of rain
Falling down onto the roof of your conservatory
And make me scream passionately.
I wish you were here!
We would have some creative ideas
About peace, pleasure and prosperity!