Her face may have allure
That enchants you with its sweetness
But her beauty will eventually sour
For who could stand to gaze
Upon a glowing October moon
For more than half an hour
And her tender age is charming
Enticing you with its softest flesh
And luscious lips of rosy shades
But even the prettiest buds
Has its time for blooming
Then its youthfulness soon fades
I bid you well, I bid adieu
And hold no grudge of bitter tears
For your choice is yours to make
But even the deepest love soon
withers
As do fragrant Indian summers
Even the sturdiest heart
Can also break.
