I'm far too shy to tell you that I love
you.
You're a star far from my plain
earth.
I gaze and see no woman who's
above you: To me you are the cynosure of
worth.
Yet with all your beauty you're a
person
Like me in need of sympathy and
love. Your thoughts of me would not, I
dare hope, worsen
If I in some way tried your heart to
move.
There's pleasure, surely, drawn
from the reflection That someone, somewhere,
worships your sweet face,
Thinks you are the summit of
perfection,
Wants nothing more of life than
your embrace. The danger is you'll think it couldn't
be;
So I suggest you see yourself
through me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem