April, so winsome and shy
with a smile on her lips
a tears on her eyes.
she's a tall and beautiful girl
but oh! She loves to bite her nails!
but how should we address her?
A woman? A girl? or a lady?
or perhaps a man!
Oh, I'm bewildered
I wonder!
for she's puerile.
she talks a little,
she chuckles a little,
she's demure
she's lady in gesture.
how I wish she posses this all
for these are just but the
ironies of all.
she wears make up no more
she just comb her hair,
her chestnut blond hair
and silka all over
is good enough for her
she's now ready to mingle!
She's a woman of substance
a kind hearted one
she's ferociously beautiful.
listen brethren:
I'll tell you something
which I have never
told you before,
If you want to marry
sooner or later
Mary a girl
whose name is April,
so you wont regret later,
with all the distinguishing
qualities that she has,
you can ask no more
you can never ask for more!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem