Lady! Thou are the smell of desire,
Thou resemble the timbre of perfection,
Your glance is full of intoxication.
Porcelain skin, hair entwined with passion,
You can start wars and begin an aggression.
As impenetrable as the deep azure;
They think you are heavenly, I'm sure.
Somebody's mother, thou somebody's child,
For some you are etheral, yet also wild.
Women you have confiscated my attention,
What are you made of? My sole complication!
Does the blossom on you come from sanguine?
Where do you get from that nimbus of shine?
You have been chased since the birth of history,
But we don't want to solve 'The sweetest Mystery.'