For Your Pleasure Only Poem by Shuaib Saifi

Were I to pluck down stars from the open sky,
Or steal the sweet scent from a smiling flower;
Were I to trap the droll waves rolling by,
Or bid the moon its radiant glow to shower—
Would you then be pleased with me, my dear?

Were I to ask the joyful winds to dance and blow,
Or call the silent clouds in cool drizzles to rain;
Were I to beg the nightingale its sweet song to bestow,
Or force the shining sun to bow in your train—
Would you then be pleased with me, anyhow?

Were I to ask my eyes for a stream to release,
Or the heartbeats to stop so that I may be free;
Were I to ask my slowing breaths to find final ease,
Or the darling death to dominate over me—
Oh, my love! You might then be pleased to see.