Like the burning torch on an emerald lamp is an unspoken language of gold.
Beauty reared in the lap of summer, my race of thoughts untold.
Tulips slept in the beds of autumn and breathed a deep sigh.
Like a parched brook greeting the rain under satin beds to lie.
Behind the curtain of tube roses open for a virgin kiss.
Beckoning course of rivers murmur their last wish.
The intoxicating wind saw love mediating the flames.
Unseen by flowers, unknown by clouds, unheard by every dame.
Like the bride of death standing in the column of light.
Weave from harp and lute, a veil in dark sight.
In the rays of the sun and the beams of the moon.
Is the music of the brooks like the Daniel boon?
I saw the bees drink from cupped lilies all it’s nectar in its glorious view.
Beautiful petals plucked to embellish the garden and spread its Kendal green carpet so new.
As I embrace slumber, eyes of night watch over me,
Bidding the light farewell and ankling bells to see.
Yellow as candle light and silver as moonlight.
Spring clouds descend to the valley in delight.
I sit by the rock whose violets hide.
Pursue exchange of sweetness of kisses and my merry heart rides.
Like a virgin kiss, pure garment of snow.
I drop my feet in prayer and soothe restlessness to bow.
Like the unborn child all for a virgin kiss exhilarating as wine.
Crescent of ages saw their summer and winter dine.
Like the wavering pillar of smoke before winds lonesomeness in my exile,
Like a virgin kiss, a feathery touch every once a while.

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