If I wait by the well of water,
Then I could stand till the end of time.
For we are passed the age
When maidens go out at evening time to draw water,
...
With my poem,
I will use the sound and rhythm of words.
With my song,
...
Aye! Dad, what stuff are you made of?
Are you silver-plated?
The image is still shiny.
...
My poetry armory has been tampered with.
Poem is set to go off.
She has pulled the strings in my heart.
...
Bitter cold on one side,
The joy on the other kept blood
From freezing in our veins.
...
When I smile, it's all for you.
The laugh that I laugh,
The cry that I cry;
...
This shadow, my dwelling place,
Shapes and equips me
As a sword in its scabbard,
An arrow in the quiver;
...
you saw a sheep in the field,
she was grazing and
you loved the sight,
you were told she is a herbivore,
...
Were today not my birthday,
It would've been a bad day;
The good of it, nobody should bar me
Glorious summer in Washington,
...
Like a deer listening to the wind,
The waiting have struck me still,
Your cry alone will do the magic.
...