When a thirsty man takes a handful of water from a river full to the brim, The river does never know what is taken, But the man does always know what he gets. When I drink from the fountain of your beauty, You lose a little, but I get a lot. She is beautiful in a way that you like to draw no comparision, And just crown her from right inside the core of your heart. A single glance of her face makes but a full pilgrimage complete, And the sublime feeling the soul within does spray the spiritual perfume. Neither she is nor can I make her mine forever, She is an image upon the water that I must not touch if i must keep her To ask the reason why is to ask in vain, Its just the magic of the moment which itself is unexplainable. To give the feeling a shape or to send the message from heart to heart, There is no way out, but to live with the helplessness. That she is , is reason enough to make this life worth-living, Her very existence makes today suitable to live in ,and tomorrow to wait upon.