I sit here, relaxed
Soaked in the peace of admiring her
Spasms of excitement do their rounds inside me
As the fragrance of her well-woven wit invoke my arousal
Every minute heaving with inexplicable anticipation
Of a twist and turn of her mental ingenuity
Alas! Am bewitched by her innocent spell.
Red or perhaps pink or maybe white
The colour of her exterior beckons me
With the fine underlying ivory-made psyche
Her honesty wins me over
Inevitably I draw nearer, closer
My curiosity giving way to adventure
I trudge without strain.
‘God, ’ I say,
‘I often acknowledge your art, but;
Am beaten to almost worshiping part of it
Her magnetism, God, her conspicuous charisma…
Could a heart such as mine pretend to be unmoved?
Can any amount of my resistance avoid such a creation?
Even if I shut my eyes, my heart shall see
Even if I close my ears, my mind shall hear
Her might so refine
Like to Eve was the forbidden fruit
I cannot overcome it by my dismal defenselessness.
Grant it then, dear Lord, that
Her petals be the first thing I see every morn’
Her scent be the gallons of air I take every day
That the thorns on her stem, dear Lord,
Be the shield against my likely waywardness
Not per my wish, but yours, Oh Lord
Is all I pray about this human Rose! ’
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.