Three thousand mysteries of Universe
at my Possession
won't match Thy Eloquence in Beauty.
What doeth resist the Pressure from the Walls
of Solitude
When all my Reverence is Nightly busy
with one overwhelming Multitude of Freckles,
Each spot defining Miraculous Presence of Thou
in Aerial Expansion, quite softening the Weight of sudden Desperation?
What would and my Appeal redeem from cause to re-Discover
A Spatial Greeting Thou utter with the Halt in Breath
If Mysteries of mine yet coming in a Hurry
Bit wither'd along the Rush...
........................Yet Coming to an End?
What Edge of Darkness doeth repel attempt of My Impatience
to frame Thyne Face again amidst the Crowds of Agitated Figures?
Yet art not We, ah! same Odd-Spirited People
Regaaaaaaaaardless...
Of Thyne Freckles....
........... diminish'd.... in Number?
Or ain't We quite different then
When knowingly for both of us
Thyne Freckles contract and re-Appear
and thus, My Temper towards Thou, accordingly.
How can't one be ultimately Serious?
When Stars above the Aeolean Top
Vanish in an instant
With no more Promise to Return.
When Thou were so Young
I saw so many Freckles!
but now, merely one
or hardly Two
and if Thou wish, entire Three.
So would Thou please answer
and how to base such Brick of Love
around Meagre Quantity of Freckles
in times when Thou're angry at me
though when Thou're quite relieved and
seeking for one Soothing Concoction
Oh Wonders! Some Freckles of past
dare to embelish Thy Cunning Cheeks another day
Of course, it's not Thyne Fault.
There is no blame in Lady, retaining herself as the Ginger-Braided,
Acquintance of Warmer Weather,
Brand Fellow of the Scorching Sun.
Before I introduce Next Letter
Let me tell how
one Recent Friend of Morphine
but Morphine yet from Smoking Den of mine
painted a Wooden Room
with every clumsly move of Guest
Awoken in pitch Fever right after Nightmare
I bet Thou're correct She was a Poet-ess
indebted in My Favour.
She praised her every beginning
concerning Next Letter
but when I was Absent,
Like Freckles of Thine just by yesterday,
While pouring Nectar from bottle a'far left on table
next to her bed
her catatonic laughter combined with hectic vigour
couldn't tame her move of hand
And precious drops of hardly-earned Morphine
Yet as I told ye quite several times
Yet Morphine but from Smokey Den of Mine
fell onto Surface of the Carpet
Mmmm.... Entire Persian Rug!
Couldn't be and even more Violent.
You better bet how my reaction was priceless:
NO MORE MUTUAL COOPERATION. YOU RUINED MY HIGH-NESS.
[*flash - flash, bling-bling, and now Thou're copper-Star
Only in proud Merchantry, the metropole of LONDON. Please shun thyne gaze from sleekness of My Inner DANDY;
Issued one policy: Thou don't deserve contours of litographic image of Mine
Wasted drop of Morphine equals to hatred. Thus any trace of my Aura's slowly confiscated.
Cannot anymore influence My Darkness, My Friend? And by the way, where iz thyne Crave? ]
Back to Thyne Freckles,
in times when Thou're angry at me
They so, could be more than just Lovely
but Thou can't stop them diminishing in Number.
When Thou were so Young
Thou had 'em in Bounty.
Oh! Now again they re-appear just with one Smile.
Concerning my Idle, Next Letter,
I'm waiting for too
as well as My Guest quite fancies of.
I bet Thou're correct She is indeed the Poet-ess
Resplendid in Fashion of her Dress,
Articulate in Manner of her Speech
and quite surprisingly, she doeth indeed speak Less
