Classic Poem

Bees say, winds say, birds say and all trees say
you were born on 8th May
in a joyous morning
when all nightingales were singing
with sweet melody to celebrate your sweet birth
on earth.

O my Love, my red Princess Rose,
since then, my day comes and day goes,
night comes and passes night,
I, in darkness or light,
adore you and take your sweet smell
and to the world your sovereignty I tell.