Poor me;
My heart has become a tool in the hands of fate,
Maybe it is true; nature is weak.
Like winds in the coast,
Am now an addict of her presence.

I look at her eyes and forget my existence.
It is true; the mystery men call love, has taken hold of my heart.
In the blooms of the sunrise,
My love for her springs awake,
Uncultured feelings that continuously mocks my courage
Could this be the magical feeling my grand mother once told me?

At the eclipse of her presence,
Her fragile hands make my lips tremble with fear.
My princess, please take away your beauty from my weak and helpless eyes:
For there in, is the fortress of my weakness.

I only prayed for a lover.
But in my princess is a slayer.
She slays me every second and restores me back with the blooms of her unequalled beauty.
A spirit and courage to savage all tender moments,
I ask from God.
Through pains and the first blood of innocence,
I would make my lover bound to me.
So she wouldn’t let me off her arms, even beyond the cost of rubies.