I picked the freshest Rose,
The freshest in the whole
Garden of the princely yard,
Charming as her soul.
I asked the lovely flower
"Are you purer than my 'Love'?"
It bowed its head and whispered:
"She's Heaven's treasure trove"
I inquired the Moon-lit Night
'Your splendor has been great?'
She hanged her face and murmured:
"Oh, how can be my fate!"
"The locks of your fianc'e
Spread beneath the moon!
Before that great splendor
I am nothing but cartoon"
When singing merry gleeful notes
I heard the nightingale
With mirthful serene melodies
Refilling all the dale
I asked her, "Blissful Minstrel!"
"Are you as sweet as my 'Soul'?"
She nodded with hesitation,
"No .. never .. not at all."
"She's embodiment of melody
Inspiration of my song!
My songs are sweeter than her,
To say that will be wrong."
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