I’m not here to quote thy face akin to a rose
Nothing but nothing grows to match your beauty pose,
Your sparkling eyes make diamond dull as a dismal day,
No diamond can ‘wink’ come hither to play
An’ melt Samson into his own shoes,
Cutting his hair for weakened blues.
Your curvy shape creates metaphors in man’s head,
They all see themselves waiting in the wedding bed,
Your inner thighs set the bar for silky softness,
Which the silkworm’s production fails a miserably mess.
Woman softly softly with that magic beguile
Beaming out that feminine smile,
Since home was a cave, man does not want to be alone
Softly softly he wants woman in his home,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.