When I perchance, did glance upon your face,
But on intent, have sought to hold your hand,
I might, on private times, claim that embrace,
And scout for site where caring lips would land;
So long as eyes can see, and touch can feel,
You are as what my ardent rhyme implies,
Should age deal blows from which beauty would reel,
These memories could vouch, I wrote no lies;
By then, deep furrows may have plowed your checks,
As Time pours out its years of etching bile,
And woes have smeared its taints on wrinkled flecks,
These would not damp the luster of your smile:
......Though underneath, is creased but still defined,
......The smile appears as just been underlined.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem