You tease, where i thought you would,
Appease, my every unmeasured sense;
Waves, approaching in torrents; I stood
At the shoreline, carrying a stick of incense.
Those murmurings, a love spell,
The ocean dared chant in mantric charm;
I pluck it out of the sands, a seashell;
Trap the genie of passion, do him no harm.
Your clam surface, to smooth the command
Of wishes, yet unspoken; for before me and
At my whim, your chicane now shall be;
Oh Love, I, shall conquer thee.