You are a flower in full bloom,
As if, through a mist, a first loom;
You are a fine line that holds beauty
So fragile it seems, yet so pretty.
You are the wind that grace my meadows
Of thoughts and lights up my weary shadows;
You are the sun after my night
That lights up everything in sight.
Of life, you are much of a mirth
As if the joy that welcomes birth,
A beauty personified in earth
A locke of immeasurable worth.
You are the viand for the men’s eyes
Bread for their souls, subject to their lies.
You should be the envy of all women
With skin so delicate as linen.
You are the life that sprouts in spring
And all the joys that life brings.
You are the song the nightingales sing;
The melody on a lyre’s string.
You can make a goddess jealous
And make a mortal over-zealous,
You’re the ditties of a million ink;
You soften warriors with just a wink.
You are the reason why now I write
These simple lines so soft and lite.
Yet, no amount of art can, even for a while
Describe the true beauty bestowed on your smile
