On this road I stand,
with no food to eat but sand,
and no tool to work but hand,
tell me, my my lady, will I stay long on this land?

And how so bad does it hurt!
That I am living without a hut.
And everything I touch feels hot.
Tell me, my lady, won't I get a cut?

Of all things in the world, your love is the peak.
It is the language that I speak.
It is my strength when I'm weak.
And my ailment when I'm sick.

Your love is a master solution to my life.
And I desire nothing more than making you my wife.
When you are angry, it is like a knife
Cutting into pieces my humble life!

If you have not taken a heart,
And you have not given a heart,
What could you have possibly got
To regard as your private lot?

My lady, all your body, soul and mind let me contain
The highest place in your heart let me attain
And my honorable position with you help me retain
Please, my state never detain!

© Nostradamus Two