The Heart of a Poppy

I do not need your red sculpted lips,

Nor hair in loops like serpents’ grips.

Nor a nape that curves like a swan’s sweet song,

Nor narcissus eyes where dreams belong.

Keep your teeth, those pearls of heaven,

And cheeks as ripe as pomegranates, given.

Your voice, as sweet as the sarinda's tune,

Your figure, graceful as a poplar in bloom.

But show me this, just this one thing,

The treasure that no other can bring.

A heart, my love, stained like a poppy's core,

Rich in its red, with love to pour.

For all the pearls, by millions bright,

I'd trade for that heart, burning with light.

A heart that bleeds with love so true,

In its crimson depths, I’d find my due.

Let the world seek beauty's fleeting charm,

But I desire your heart, warm.

In its tender shade, I long to dwell,

For there lies a love no lips could tell.

So keep your grace, your elegant form,

I seek the soul where love is born.

A heart like a poppy, fierce and red,

In its embrace, I’ll rest my head.