“Lo! ” Vespers whisper as you walk past their gaze,
“Hail, o Venus, she whose beauty shall surpass and amaze! ”
“Lo! ” Venerations pour from the mouths of the kind;
Even the wicked by thy halo veracious are struck wholly blind.
Fall, o Venice, to thy knees in rapture of she
That outshines thine art in all degree.
Fall, o Vega, for no constellation
Could match her beauty through stellar formation.
“Lo! ” Vernal flowers would all die and fall over
If not for her song, which blossoms like clover.
“Lo! ” Veil thy face, o man, to hide thy blush,
For when she is near thy cheeks deeply flush.
“Lo! ” Verbose runs this poem, but as you shall find
Blessed is she who reads between lines.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
love, love, love... hee hee... by the way you want to vote a 10 not 1 dufus!