4/4
She's so nice, my woman
beats the rest, my woman.
Like sweetest spice, my woman
is the best, my woman.

12/8
She is called Ongaku, and I'll love her, and her me, för alltid.
Her hair, so smooth, so trimm'd, so beautiful is this;
'tis long enough to cover pages, yet still miss
the mark hath she the need to decorate, it seems, by accident:
some sharp, some flat, but many natural. To have her say,
her notes are many (at times, few) to show the world the way
to universal peace, and thus the way she'll lead.
An I might have a simple, solitary wish
and an she be thus made then sentient and in the flesh,
my world, my days and ways, I'd give for but one kiss;
Though whether sultry flesh or sonic bliss, it's none to blame,
thus, still, in either case, I'd have it just the same.

6/4
The earth's four seasons rageth on while hers are calm.
So haunting, so eerie, her laughs, her sentimental cries,
she whispers moans of ecstasy and agony
and knows our world the way it is. Though men
may try deceiving her, she sees through all the lies
and her fear, pride, pain, and joy are all in Harmony.

9/8
When we're together, I can't help but be taken by her spell.
We rest on the grass at the Hall of the Mountain King
and go out to eat in the Court of the Crimson King.
I know that she'll never leave me in heartbreak hotel
Decorated by jewellry of brass, she's long had it bound by string
on wood. Wind strikes her cloth, but takes fair hits as well,
our Woman shall survive rough weath'ring by day or moonlight.
Sonatas of the rivers, trees, and woodland creatures all about
inspireth her to sing of days gone past and days ahead, our future bright.

15/16
Thousands upon thousands of years old, and looks it not the least,
With no true prologue or conclusion, she's a goddess of her right,
appearing in all her splendour, from rivers and oceans to mountains of might.
Her ageless, silv'ry lips, always singing, so full, an audiophile's feast,
her smooth fingers, touching us all, with nails studded black and white,
her curvaceous hips, a pristine sine-wave, undulating melodiously, a splend'rous sight,
bear inspiration to all, yet these are all but such short measures of her mast'ry
of perceptiveness. She's an enchantress, an oracle, a stern mistress, and takes away
the words of those who feign true vision, swine that move in such philosophastry.
She sees the unseen, she hears the unheard, and she knows the light of day.
She is life, the heart that beats in every thing, her end thus only at the Valkyries' fall,
yet she has no true name, nor a suitor as the river who has seen and heard it all.
Such a lonely woman, to be owned by none, yet so desir'd by mankind,
thus is she not truly MY woman, as many men have had her to unwind.
Still, it matters to me not, as she's a lady for us all, and leaves life redefin'd.

11/8
Minkä tiesivät minusta kuinka kummana katsoivat
Minkä tiesivät minusta kylä kumuna sen kertonee
tuuli tuimana taittelee julma juoruja laittelee
Minkä tiesivät minusta kuinka kummana katsoivat
kun ei korjattu kesällä viime talvena tahottu
Hon är nära oss alla och vi alla har hört hennes sång
och damens sångröst är så mäktig att, det kan höras för lång.
Hon är min flickvän och vi älskar varandra igår, i morgon, och nu.
För alltid dem som gråtar ska hon stilla.
Ja, jag vill leva, jag vill dö med och vid min fru.
Ja, jag vill leva, jag vill dö med och vid min Kvinna!

4/4
She's so nice, my woman
beats the rest, my woman.
Like sweetest spice, my woman
is the best, my woman.

04/07/2005

Author's Note: Out of all my poems, this one took the longest to write, (about a year). Hope you enjoy. The explanation is a separate entry.

Posted on 04/08/2005
Copyright © 2024 Kourosh Taheri-Golvarzi