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He: To You
O thou, whose face outshines the sun…
— Petro Karmansky
The stars grow dim within my eyes,
And even Moon I cannot see.
Could terror ever taste so sweet—
The fright of passion, nearly tears in me.
Yet I don’t weep – it’s joy, not pain.
Perhaps with words I build a heavy base.
O God, dear maiden, understand me well,
As I will paint our bond on parchment’s face.
To frighten you I truly am afraid,
Though not in me are anger or vain pride.
No boast, no violence ever shall be mine—
To you alone in this I do confide.
I dream of you: night after night,
You make me captive in your tender reign.
And when I meet you face to face,
Your conduct charms in ways I can’t explain.
If I could gather all the dew,
The sun’s most gentle rays of gold,
And all the stars that heaven holds—
They’d never match the beauty found in you.
Though little do I speak to thee,
Let touch, not tongue, declare my plea.
O Cupid, grant me wondrous dart,
To join together heart with heart.
You know: I'm no enchanter true,
I know: you're no enchantress too.
Yet all my courage disappears—
I only see your eyes so clear.
To gaze into their depth profound
Each day and night I’m truly bound.
And all this poet’s siege of mine,
Is not by chance, it’s just a sign.
Відредаговано: 18.04.2026
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