Met him at a party last week,
A man of manners and sapience deep.
But what struck me most,
About our very cordial host.
Was not his person, rather his nose,
Thus, to ogle at, it was his snout I chose!
What beauty, what an artefact,
Losing all sense of propreity and tact.
I rushed to my Adonis’ian bebe,
Besotted by his wonderous neb.
For this nose boy that I dote,
Are the following lines I wrote-
Thy nose is flawless, like its chiseled in teak.
It magnanimity nothing less, than the lofty Himalayan peak!
So sharp and so straight, so very confident of its fate.
Thy nose will make Narcissus weep, for Echo, thine can no longer keep.
Together we shall honour thy nose & make jealous all unfortunate those
Who like me in bitter woes, have been born with a flat platipus nose
But you, my love, my darling rose, shall always be known for thy nose.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem