Like a green veil draped, the silent woods arise,
So fades my soul within the deep abyss of your eyes.
The playful mountain stream conceals a melody so sweet,
Upon your parting lips, that very song and silence meet.
In autumn clouds, the milk-white reeds unfurl their gentle wing,
Within your straying tresses, wild winds lose their wandering.
From midnight skies, the silver moon pours down its mystic gleam,
Your tender grace steals my fond heart, like a haunting dream.
The seasons change, and Nature wears a new and wondrous gown,
In monsoons wild, or vernal bloom, or when the night falls down.
O Woman! on this mortal earth, what magic do you weave?
In Nature’s pulse, the chime of your sweet anklets I perceive.
Patient as the nurturing earth, and flowing like the rain,
The world would find its grace, if but your love it could attain.
Nature and Woman, bound as one, the finest gifts divine,
No song can ever bound the praise of thy immortal shrine.
