Gentle Eyes with the tranquility of still pools, with the pleasing stillness of lakes; eyes full of love deep and luxuriant, while full of pain are a balm, while bestowing anguish, bestow delight.
Deep eyes like dead seas, which impart life when open, and impart death when closed; eyes full of lament, eyes immense; black shining diamonds suspended over large purple petals.
Eyes residing in the pale-blue clouds of the setting sun, accustomed to gazing at landscapes, they are full of time and of distance; divine eyes enlightened, that in remembrance vaguely look at me as if I were wrapped by a fragrance.
Eyes undecipherable of the arcane, divine expressions of what is human, opened pharaonic vaults, dark eyes which have wept so much, under the night, like under a mantle, all sweet hope extinguished.
Eyes from a long-suffering heart, a fugitive of oblivion which hoists herself repeatedly to cry, two nights of the dead, dreadful, two mysterious tombs forgotten, suns blackened of their illumination.
Eyes undaunted from their purpose that have illuminated my path, evoking my youth to flower; beautiful dark eyes enigmatic that from a distance look at me, ecstatic, as if lauding something holy.
Beautiful eyes, somber, void of hate, void of love, before mine, containing the mystery of the heavenly luminaries; never had I seen them more deep nor more beautiful, beneath a black forest of hair. Beneath an outcropping of pale alabaster, your crest.
I wish to own them like the night owns its bright stars, like the rivers own their fragile mirrors. I wish to kiss them, divine eyes which I admired that blue afternoon, when they were before mine.