Though I am a literary dilettante, 

My pen drips emotions 

Slowly and slowly, 

Nibbling the thought of yours, 

It creates maniac poetry 

Which it claims silently 

As the magnum opus.

Do you know what 

The magnum opus contains;

It contains the pages 

About a Belle in the sirimiri of love?

Do I need to explain 

That you are that

Belle, 

And I am the exuder 

Of that sirimiri of love?