Framed by a crown of golden hair

A beautiful countenance, a giver of genius,

A matchless ideal, a thunderbolt of longing,

A rose in the heart, the infallible rapture.

The vice is gone, leaving only shyness,

I will touch the whiteness of a maiden's hands with my lips.

I will humble my eyes with pleasure and glide my eyes with a fiery gaze.

The vaulted temple of her enchanting soul.

Like a holy seraphim, her gown covers her station.

And her curves are captivating in their curves.

My love, I'm full of feeling, and you drain me dry.

The vice is gone, leaving only shyness,

I will touch the whiteness of a maiden's hands with my lips.

I will humble my eyes with pleasure and glide my eyes with a fiery gaze.