Why are you so perfect?
Wherefore are your fanciful words,
And coloured allusions springing from?
On which cloud do your metaphors float with such grace,
As to take the hearts of a thousand lands,
And the wind of a thousand sails?
My very own love, to my unworthy eyes,
You are of an exquisite and unparalled beauty when thou dost speak.
What fine, loquacious eloquencies do tumble forth from you lips!
Each word, it seems, its own little bubble,
That alights on the grass but for a second,
Before bursting in mellifluous charm.
You are quite flattering - some may call you a wisenheimer,
And you are as brilliant as the sun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem