Your name, I donot know,
Made of what kind of unknown magic,
Old, ancient and yet timeless,
Has bewitched me, body and soul.
After turning me into a poet,
It wants to turn me into a monk.
The beautiful laughter, and your eyes,
Rouses the sleeping human in me.
I donot know of passions,
Of carnal desires or of hungers.
And I never would, as I found you.
When I see you, I am not myself, but,
A naive child who’s unaware of worldly things.
I just don’t want you to know,
Of, how much is the true depth,
Of what I feel for you.
I don’t want you to hurt me,
I don’t want you to make me
Utter one curse on your name.
You are my God, and I am your pilgrim,
But I would never let you know this,
I don’t want to be forsaken.
But never doubt my love for you,
Never think they lack passion.
I wouldn’t be able to live,
With your hatred.
But even if you do,
I would still, like I always will,