When you see a maiden, glamorous
Whose hair is dark, short with tender looks
Whose lips sweeter than honey comb, red as henna,
Not an odious, never
But a lady of reason, enchanting
Whose eyes glitter sparkles of trust.
Whose face naturally filtered, seraphic
Blooming as a pure star, by moon side


Then you, the keepers of the silent nights
Get her safely for me
Because she is the lass,
You, reading this,
That I pray to soon call my own.