O woman of my dreams,
O graceful lady, you!
Wrapped in distorted linen,
But persona, elegantly-worn.
Dishevelled hair, too,
Full of confetti hither and thither,
You gather them and blow.
Your eyes, blurred with kohl,
Lips, tinted with flush.
Forbidden garden in the eyes,
Nectar-filled lips, tempting yet venerable.
O lady in Red, you stand alone,
Disgraced angel, mortal soul.
Wait wait, for your mesmerizing spell.
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