The pond of your breasts
My pillow shall be;
Your eyes my moons
Like silver shine.
Wait, my girl!
Don’t go away:
What if I will not see you,
Ever again?

Pawnie birks
My men-engni shall be;
Yackors my dudes
Like ruppeney shine:
Atch meery chi!
Ma jal away:
Perhaps I may not dick tute
Kek komi.