Who would have thought that perfection was palpable.
Angel speck-less, man can touch, unbelievable!
Beauty wrapped in flesh, the panacea to man’s
sore heart is found. I can see her. I truly can!
God’s paradigm for creation of women does live.
Her hips are perfect, and her breast substantive,
Tantalizing men, young, and old, to taste of her,
But of the blood of Mary, she is a flower
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem