If I wish to write a poem on thee,
The words prior to you seems unworthy.
When I want to compare thee with nature,
It lost its entity o beautiful creature.
Thy innate selfdom as the cupid's personification,
A man as verse in his inamorata's imagination.
Gazing of those sensual and animate eyes,
Like the moth making flowers bloom in disguise.
In the nectar of thy temperate amour,
Nymphs get drenched to carve their mamour.
My longings for thee accept no boundaries,
Since you are the redressal of all quandaries.
Where on the earth everything is thine,
But in the paradise you will be mine.