Poetry is jealous of you tonight,
for as soon as I come
to pen a few words,
your perfume attacks me
in the most civilised manner
and I forget myself.
I forget the poem.
I forget the ...

I am certain,
my love,
that poetry was born
only after your birth.

I will drive the world crazy
with love poems for you.
So they can know how magnificent you are
and how crazy I am.

I spent all night
weaving a poem for you
to wear. You look so beautiful
when you wear my light.

My love,
you are driving the entire world mad.
The nightingales are committing suicide
one by one out of jealousy of your voice.
The roses took one glance at your beauty
and folded themselves from shame.
The trees now only whisper your name
and the sky hasn’t stopped crying since you looked up.
Have pity on us, my love.
We have already broken all the mirrors and glass
out of fear that you will forget us
and fall in love with yourself
once you see what we all
cannot stop seeing.

You are my favourite part of life.