Shakespeare, your mistress'eyes may not be,
But those of mine are lustrous,
The looks so beautiful and penetrating,
The cheeks appleyish,
The lips roseate and pink,
The smiles so cute and flowery,
The hair golden brown
And glistening,
Playing with the sunshine,
The curls with the wind
And the sun flashing over
The sweet face of yours.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem