Is...like an errant archangel
And her voice is so real
And her gestures so sensual
That are like to an aphrodisiac balsam,
Her breathe seduces me
And her sublime skin invites one touch,
Her red lips insinuate: Kiss me
And the whisper of her eyes
That cries me on silence: Love me,
Her soul is the personified temptation
Her body drives me crazy
And at the same time punishes my soul
Her walk and her sights
Are a luxury’s invitation
And the apogees of her youth
Break my senses
It would say that is
The most pondered degree of the esthetic
Her name is so beautiful
Than the first cry to the sunset
And has turned in my lemma,
All her words are my hymn
And like emblem have I her figure
That for me is transparent
Like the crystal water,
Is so angelically her smile
And her temptator touches
Are specimens of drug
That dislocates my senses
Until the sound of her steps
Is a joy for my spirit,
Her lips sometimes vanidous
Makes me dream off like a relaxant.
Whatever poet that desires inspiration
Just has to see her face
Her face is the only resume
Of the universal beauty.
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