An oddity you are to me darling
So I kept a picture of your face
What an expression you did make
The soul of every laborer of grace
You would’ve driven Ovid passionately mad
Fawnish wide eyes, a faultless canvas
Perfect bright eyes, resplendent magnets
Light is leaping from chromatic irises
And stabbing holes unto sound judgment
Reason pours as sand may down the hourglass
You’d intoxicate this drunkard man
But to keep my distance, fight obsession
Will finally drive me in fatuously sad.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem