Dusk brings the charms to my lips
It would seem.
The moon is here and
My tongue is ripe with whispers.
I can whisper now
For my eyes are weary
From telling poetry.

How you were enchanted with the rhyme my sighs poured when I touched
your fountain head!

The candles have gone all out
The muse has drunk up the oil of the lamp to the last droplet.
The innocent wigs dies noiselessly.

Is this what happens when a poet falls in love?
That my trashcan becomes the graveyard for my pen
That lay like thankless knights
That have bled to please their mistress for quests unsent.

Is this what happens when a poet falls in love?
That the innocence of papers are stolen?
How so many have cried in the merciless flames sentenced thus 'bearers
of unworthy words'

So pure our love is my love. So true.
A cherub perhaps is ravished and he cries to God to have him be our ring bearer.

What other fulfillment is greater than our spirits soaring in each other's eyes?

Is this what happens when a poet falls in love?
That he weeps when his lover's beauty is adored lesser than a seraph's.

While you sleep
I'll say a prayer
That will keep me
In this dream forever.

Is this what happens when a poet falls in love?
This tragedy?