Ma Dame, I say to you
as it was written
hundreds of years ago
by Francois de la Rochefoucauld,
"True love is like ghosts,
which everybody talks about
and few has ever seen."

And now this poem for you
in my own words...

Amoureaux,the fruits of my passion
are yours, and now
how I delight in your arrival
my hallowed woman
you among the gardenias that blossom...

Pour vous, I would with my last breath
exhale my love for you
on that day may it be bitter cold
so you could see what you mean to me...

Je t'aime, in my mind
where my thoughts are born
in my heart where emotions reside
and in my soul where dreams become...

Je vous vois, under the Spanish Moss
when the noisy throng of song birds burst with rhapsody
filling the echoing evening effervesce
with the elation of their songs...

Mon amour, if you this night descend into the abyss
of my loneliness, with the touch of your lips
plants in the moonlit garden will burst out in bud...

Je le ferai, inhale your perfume in bold enjoyment
as when one turns the pages of a sacred book
breathes the scent of mystic violets...