FEVER OF LOVE

I’m dying in t’is fever of love, the love which I bear
To thee like Majnun, O’ Laila!
You weigh my affections none, so I went
To register in the logbook of Supreme authority-
To make our rendezvous, – crying, bleeding heart,
Nigh there in the café of Romeos.

Smells always of some perfume, the perfume of love.
[The scent of your body, drives me crazy.]
There we met at, in an encounter: first flash,
You kept me under thy enthrall.

As the sorcerer chains the minds composure
By the malpractice, so does your scent, O’ Lady.
Thy arrows art thy Ledaean like charms.
It’s twisting my liver; killing me softly…, O’ Darling.