As my sense perceives, I praise you:
A treasure trove worth more than gold,
Or the infinitely-layered pearl
Whose secret growth transcends all else
In its shell. I must confess myself
To fantasize — visions of being worthy of you
Are numerous, and tend to swarm,
Leaving me breathless and heartsick.
Insect songs played on firefly-lit nights
Are nothing to the passions
With which you have bewitched me;
Even occasional irritations cannot
Cloud my admiration completely.
You exist for me, from within and outside;
An inspiration — a spirit arousing all
Spectrums of thoughts and feelings.
Why do you excite me so?
Even the myriad of humanly imperfections
You possess are perfect. Have I dreamed of you?
I must have done - I refuse to think that we are
Not some extension of each other,
Brought together from far-reached ends.