.
When he glimpses her fly by, you his charming indolent, To the chorus of the music nearby, blasting up to the ceiling,
He praises your harmonious and slow pace, And sauntering stardom with your deep blue gaze;
He dares to contemplate, in the fires of the glass that shades it, your pale forehead, adorned by a morbid enchantment,
There the night torches sky light, up and dawn, Her attractive eyes like those gazes of the portraits of saints,
He said unto himself, beautiful! and earthly cool! Her passive memory, regal, like a nightly melody,
Her gown, her crown, and her heart bruised like a peach, she is ripe, body and soul, for an interesting love.
Is she the autumn fruit of heavenly flavors? Is she an African vase waiting for seasonal raindrops?
Her perfume that makes him dream of rarest oasis, silently Caresses the pillow, then kisses the basket of bouquets,
He knows that eyes far too well, of the most solemn which, hides precious secrets; painful dilemmas,
She is a Beautiful basket, full of jewels, medallions without relics, Hallow, richer than himself, far into the Heavens!
But should it be enough to make just an appearance? To jubilate with a heart that hides and flees the truth?
Can his stupidity or his indifference make any gain? To this end, Mask or decor, he just loves her elegance.
Sincerely, @izge.
.
When he glimpses her fly by, you his charming indolent, To the chorus of the music nearby, blasting up to the ceiling,
He praises your harmonious and slow pace, And sauntering stardom with your deep blue gaze;
He dares to contemplate, in the fires of the glass that shades it, your pale forehead, adorned by a morbid enchantment,
There the night torches sky light, up and dawn, Her attractive eyes like those gazes of the portraits of saints,
He said unto himself, beautiful! and earthly cool! Her passive memory, regal, like a nightly melody,
Her gown, her crown, and her heart bruised like a peach, she is ripe, body and soul, for an interesting love.
Is she the autumn fruit of heavenly flavors? Is she an African vase waiting for seasonal raindrops?
Her perfume that makes him dream of rarest oasis, silently Caresses the pillow, then kisses the basket of bouquets,
He knows that eyes far too well, of the most solemn which, hides precious secrets; painful dilemmas,
She is a Beautiful basket, full of jewels, medallions without relics, Hallow, richer than himself, far into the Heavens!
But should it be enough to make just an appearance? To jubilate with a heart that hides and flees the truth?
Can his stupidity or his indifference make any gain? To this end, Mask or decor, he just loves her elegance.
Sincerely, @izge.
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