Ink-Stained Affection

Ode to Enchantress

Oh, bearer of grace! O radiant spirit!
A young heart lies still, untouched and weary,
As if a prose tinted with darkened hues.
You have poured into it roses of red,
And in it, cast your melody anew.

Oh, gentle smile, keeper of boundless charm!

Within a man's chest, no heart resides,
For it stays mortgaged in your hands.
Time and again, I ask myself,
Yet when I see you, desire stirs-
As if I've never gazed upon you before.

Oh, you wild vine! O dawn's ascending light!

You took away a fractured heart,
But only you could mend its cracks.
In your vessel lies that heart's essence,
For each glance I cast, I long to look again.

Oh, flawless muse, exalted grace!

Man's soul knows no rhythm, no pulse,
But a single moment in your presence
Seems to breathe it back to life,
And every glance I steal of you,
Only makes me long to see you more.

Oh, beloved soul of my spirit!

A man's heart flutters like dry leaves,
Yet with one gust, you shape its verse.
In your presence, his barren soul feels rain,
As sweet and gentle streams overflow.

Oh, dark-eyed enchantress! Voice of truth!

The heart of youth was born in solitude,
A famine struck by pangs of longing.
In its emptiness, you place fragrant jasmine,
So that I may forget this loneliness, and soon.

Oh, forest vine! Wanderer of love's temple!

This heart of youth is often a weary thing,
An unyielding fatigue, and you its southern breeze.
In the ceaseless weight of this world,
You break the heavy clouds, fragrant and pure,
Casting your soothing presence upon my mind.