What shall be the shape of the pearls when it will melt within your fist and belongs to me?

What shall be the essence of your moist lips, if it will be kissed by mine without telling you?

Holding your hand if my shadow shall walk,
What shall be the need for my skin?

In the mirth of your incoming love if I shall rebel with my self,
What shall be the age of growing seed of our Love and my own essential brine to connect you?