Toothache Swollen Cheek And Bruising

La Favorita Sultan Shakir and Zorah

Sultan's favorite poem of John Arolas

March, ruthless and raw
because I
burning with your kisses,

to look almost naked

many graces and charms.

Sun at the zenith burns me

not a cloud in your sky,

I will put double gauze, and will not see you unveiled:

on a bed encubertado

I have to fill with flowers,

and garden will be closed

where hide my love.

Jewish, thankfully

of my being are siren, as

you do not see any, Christian or Mohammedan!

You're glad you laugh and

when lacking vigor in me, while your black pupils

jump you drunk with pleasure. Who has to break your ties?

Fall In Love, Overpower, and one day of your hugs

yields more than a hundred battles. Leave a blind frenzy!

... While in thy womb beautiful

I fall asleep with the request, while singing and rest, Febles

my soldiers suffer

humiliation in their defeats, and in rough seas

lose my greedy fleets: lost to Egypt

and plains, where auras given away

pure swaying spikes

in curved rods, where the eternal moles

where pride is written, stand in the sand

with granite sphinx, whose eyelid awake

never once closed

or desert winds, and the centuries passed . You

I love, and you agree

my two seas that threaten

eagles on two fronts

of ambitious tsars.

Guay autocrat one day

not come to take my harem, and for being my slave

me die too! No nudity for my love

wizard that your bosom, and let Mr.
your
will bare his steel.

Tina blood its edge, which rises in its fury

pyramids along the Nile
heads
traidores.Mas ah ... my vote failed

let illusions, hindrance of the senses,

magnet of hearts: for the most dour Moor

the battles that broke apart, because to contemplate your cry,

reins to the horse I tried touching volviera.Yo

some beautiful snow, whose kiss given

moved with grateful emotion.

But your kiss, sultana, sweet wet kiss

of those scarlet lips, makes me crazy, I lost.

Contempt, then, my wealth, and which spans tinsel,

my titles and greatness, my troops and my ships. My

not want palaces with dilated ends, nor my holiday houses,

with ponds and gardens

or the happy Arabia

the finest gifts, cool baths or pink

or purple, or steed, or the name given to me,

lord of sea and land, majestic shade of Allah,

prince of peace and war. Contempt

dignities of my military prowess,

and my peoples and cities with towers and fortresses.

And I say to the couch that I have more states,

my pipe, my Atago

and your eyes adored.