Identity
Beauty of mind can keep you blithe
As flowers never the fragrance aside,
You matched her eyes with the pearl
And would say Oh my sweet girl,
You named her lips 'Sweet Rose'
Without being observed so close,
Her cheeks you'd say green apple
I'm sure wouldn't you know for sale,
After years now she's turned old
Even you're not as before so bold,
Her eyes never speak of pleasure
None will come to take her share,
The lips you praised as divine store
Now it is less than a ground floor,
The cheeks of her you glorified
How sad finding it a bark fried!
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