47 Roses of Saint Susan

Susan, let the gods give me what to say For in you lies my fortune of words.

By your laugh and bitterness do I unite Slide my heart with your kiss and, Kill my heart only to be born in you.

Blind my eyes that no other Susan shall look

A beauty's saint as you;

Touch my lips and hold my tongue to yourself,

That no other woman shall kiss

For if golden Venus and others was you, Yet I will refuse to be into them.

Dreams are like storm of love

For in reality dreams are storms, Ragging and bragging but with little time.

But shall I compare your love;

Like ragging storm and Whitsun,

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Oh Susan, words of a poet are not good enough.

Not good enough to talk this moment of life. (To task this

moment)

The council of gods meet me with a fortune, Finally, I was told the magical gem to please you.

But I, an African man and you an English Scottish, Shall an African man kneel to propose to you in public? Or, shall an African man engage an English lady By virtue of ring and paper?