From: ibshambat@gmail.com   
      
   You are a masterpiece; true work of art   
   And your whole being, and its every part   
   Is masterwork of nature and mankind   
   Which in you is accomplished and refined.   
      
   Your hair, like hanging gardens of the queen   
   Of Babylon, swing down, and in them seen   
   Are ivy, cherry blossom, orchid, rose   
   Blooming together in resplendor. Those   
      
   Blue eyes, in which we see Monet, Renoir -   
   The beauty fathomed specially from afar,   
   That are more haunting, beautiful and true   
   The greater distance between me and you;   
      
   A nose that like a yacht upon the seas   
   Engulfs the essence of the ocean breeze -   
   That stays aloft in turmoil and in flood   
   And sends the chastened air through the blood -   
      
   The lips that like the opening to a cave   
   Conceal a warm and delicate enclave   
   In which the sparkling teeth and gentle tongue   
   Lead food inside and air into the lung;   
      
   A neck that like a Doric column stands   
   Majestic, long and white; the lily hands   
   That craft calligraphy and highest art   
   Sustained by rushing turbines of your heart;   
      
   A chest with pair of Taj Mahals adorned   
   That puts all human craftsmanship to scorn;   
   The voice, like a piano or a flute   
   Resounds through many octaves or stops mute,   
      
   The strands of spirit that are entertwined   
   In the refining furnace of your mind   
   That fills itself with majesty and love   
   And forges them into a treasure trove:   
      
   The legs like those of cheetah or gazelle   
   Are elegant and long and run like hell;   
   The stomach that like delta river's sand   
   Is smooth and soft and tender to the hand;   
      
   And terraced hills and paddies of your ears,   
   And morning dewdrops of your gentle tears,   
   And the Saharah Desert of your back,   
   And the Forbidden Palace in its track:   
      
   In you the world is manifest, in you   
   Is sun and sky and every worldly hue,   
   The flowers, stars and sculptures and the word   
   Of masters and the dreamers and the Lord.   
      
   I love you all; and, feeling with my heart   
   Your whole entity and every part,   
   I rise in passion and, inspired, fall   
   Into the Sistine Chapel of your soul.   
      
   https://sites.google.com/view/ilyashambatpoetry   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)