Upon a cheek of pearl, a raven's grace,
Upon a cheek of pearl, a shadowed space,
That maiden, light, a whirlwind's art,
Has stolen reason, seized my heart.
She makes me mad, mad with desire,
My senses flee, consumed by fire.
She steals my sleep, a nightly quest,
Oh, mad she makes me, puts me to the test!
Upon a cheek of pearl, a raven's grace.
Her lips, a blush, her walk, a drunken sway,
Her eyes, sharp knives that pierce the day.
Before her beauty, sunbeams fade and pale,
And moon and stars in envy wail.
The cuckoo sings to greet her light,
The cuckoo sings, a pure delight,
The clouds descend, a misty shroud,
Her beauty vast, a vibrant crowd.
She makes me mad, oh, mad I yearn,
Upon a cheek of pearl, the lessons I must learn.
With flowers she converses, plays with moon's soft gleam,
To witness her, a festival of song, a poet's dream.
The music rings, a vibrant sound,
The music rings, with love profound.
Each song with fragrance fills the air,
She is the cup, beyond compare.
She makes me mad, oh, mad I crave,
She makes me mad, beyond the grave.
Upon a cheek of pearl, a raven's grace.
The poets write of her, their verses flow,
The singers sing, their melodies bestow,
The strings of sitar, in a dance begin,
The scales and flute, their music spin.
A valley blooming, flowers unfurl,
A princess fair, in a dream-filled world,
She paints with love, a vibrant hue,
She paints with love, forever true.
She makes me mad, oh, mad I sigh,
Upon a cheek of pearl, beneath the sky.
That maiden, light, a whirlwind's art,
Has stolen reason, seized my heart.
She makes me mad, oh, mad I pray,
Upon a cheek of pearl, come what may.
|
