In her light, we shine
Prize the woman, crafted in tender grace;
From Adam sprung, her nature tenderly lies,
In love she lurks, but shame may show her face.
Her unseen depths are undiluted sweet,
Are crafted by her hand, O' men, take heed,
Behave gently and listen with discreet
You would be the blessed ones indeed.
When she chooses to celebrate the disdain,
It is her will, thereby, blame not the great One,
Perfumed flower, You cause the bees to reign,
In spring on trees, your blossoms greet the sun.
Strive to survive for a better morrow,
And cross not the bounds that leads to sorrow.
© Affaq
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