Desert Flower

Pure golden rain I have gathered honey water which is not sifted by sand nor soiled having depended upon the rain that falls of the many people whom raised you. The eye which you turn, skims over that way of the wild animal in me which shows her smooth cheek not to I but to others which is prohibited. And she shows the neck like the neck of the grand white swan. When that of his girth increases that of she, being clear of decoration, Am I imbalanced? And when it is loosened, the leaf which floats completes with wet air. Heavy load, O woe is me which decorates her chest like clustered grapes gathering thick black orbs, the darkness it colors very. Hers unlike mine on her head is lost with the hair which is draped and the hair which falls loosely. Her form seems like the stalk of the callused palm wood which bends from the weight of the fruit. At morning, when she awakes, as for the particles of the musk it has met the dawn and left to her bed. She sleeps during morning greatly as her want As for her as for the necessity to grant to her west where the clothes that function as silk have been loosely attached it is not. My illusion which she loads with thin fingers where she as been the earthworm of the wood made of the oak sap. Where those are large, is not thick is abandoned. At evening as for her as she is the light I write of the tower of the monk, the darkness is made that much brighter. She is proportionate the long gowns may be the height between the uncommon people. But gracefully you finish the hearts center dearly. The counselor where I am ever wise for your sake of what is what was still I ignored, but I turned they from those whom now say.