Unapproachable, usually shy,

You are now like fire, all burning

Let me lock your unusual sight

In the poem of love I am saying.

Look, how perfectly changed with the lamp

Is the hovel, and wall, even window

Our figures are covered with shade

Which is gentle like night in the meadow.

You are sitting, your legs on the ottoman,

As the Turks used to sit on the sofa,

Just the same, is it darkness or light

You are looking as if you are so far.

You are dreaming and stringing the beads

It’s a handful that’s rolled on the dress,

And your smile is today very sad

And your talk and your mood are depressed.

Love—the word looks too vulgar today,

I will think of another alias.

The whole world, all the words just for you

I’ll rename to ruin the barriers.

Can appearance sullen of yours

Show feelings so deeply are laying

And the light of your beautiful heart,

And the grief that your eyes are containing.