I met her in a room of dreams:
a beauty of her own,
my life's confused more than it seems,
now that an urge is grown.
She laid herself down to my feet
and offered something immense,
we probably will never meet
though noone knows it hence.

She’s lovely like a lamb on a willow,
with her eyes abjectly turned down,
She sleeps on a hard padded pillow
under my rigorous frown.
She executes whatever I tell her,
she’s a nice subject to my whim,
if I could I would like to smell her,
whenever she’s aroused to the brim.

My force, my strictness, my power
are doings for her to be pleased,
my rigity brings her to lower
her own desires increased.
Under strength she melts like a glacer,
when she comes she comes only for me,
I’ve to care not to be like a racer,
who runs down her own way to be.

I could all times be with her and revel,
to be privileged as the One she belongs,
and my heart makes a jump from its level,
when I think on her writing my songs.
She’s devoted as I fancied ever,
and she looks like a wonderful dream,
I’d give back her for nothing and never,
I rather would bluster and scream.