Only the sun-spied scarlet hibiscus I offer my Goddess,
Dew draped as dazzling spinel to the tassels of Her dress,
At the silver-belled feet my palms pine to press,
For no plea but gratitude for the life I possess.

Sweet turmeric milk spilled on thine idol of ivory,
Of witnessing even a replica of such divine beauty,
Could I, with only petals of passion, be worthy?

Such is the...