Tales do I sing, joy would I bring.
Forgotten stories of wine and lillies
and thy crescent crimson moon.
One single moment, rarest of beauties.
My love, a dove do sing thy poem.
As ocean's deep blue, thy eyes abyss,
a heart pure and bright - wave's foem;
for it may caught me off guard,
thus overempower my own heart
and do silenced my lips
with a soft hiss.

Everlasting green or meddows
and spring, warmth of waters and sweet
is the scent of oranges.
As blossums so a white rose,
thou art my heart's yearning
for once a time of love and devotion,
to the purest of emotions;
for my intension is crystal as water
and divine, as is a white dove - love.
Thus I have sworn to thee,
for if not so to be,
my heart shall never set me free.

Love is mortal, such is humanity.
Hearts intertwine fly and fall.
Love's illogic is our sanity,
may thy crescent moon -
shine upon us all.