When God made you a woman, thought that the Universe, not be filled with stars, or the land of springs, or streams and rivers would travel the paths, Waved saws torrents of mystery.
When God made you a woman, thought you'd be the verse, Poets would write in nostalgia for a dream; receiving the sweetness the coos and kisses, filled with joy and happiness and fragrance of your breath.
When God made you a woman, thought that only your body would be poetry in the air, and sense of desire than men to look at you; yearn to feel in a dream night, the kisses you can give.
