It would be just fine
Says this heart of mine
If my nose had not
Been filled with her perfume
During the ride,
Down and up went.
But that is not so,
And to writing go I
To express what I must
Before I end as dust
Scattered before the gust.
Watching her dance,
If I had chance
To talk with her
before evens' end
To tell her all.
Her flowing red hair
Did cause me to stare rudely,
I must confess here
But watching her dance
Was much worse perchance
Seeing her sway
To and fro
Those hips, those lips 'cite me so
In ways I can't
say to all.
Where it goes from here
I can not say clear
Will it end in naught
As others have ought
Perhaps it may not
Only time will tell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem