My tongue lowers; as nothing can be expressed,
the love has not many words.

As are the prideful
remarks on breast.

I fear for the words to say, aren't perfect
in the ceremonies of love's rite,

The strength of my words only decay. A burden
of mine to lose my might.

Eyes heavy upon this love,
Preyed onto by your glorious sight. Oh how my
silent love only knows wit,

Belonging to a shy man's lips.