Poetic verses of a poem (won by her hand)

I got her hand, unless my hand draped a engraving on a wrist, oh my skin, like the ways of ants in her mind, or the kindergarten of her studded clouds, as if she were afraid of the nobility of her face, and she wore a shield from the zebra, stretching her handkerchiefs in her palm, a trap that pierced my heart from within the body, and the bow of her eyebrows from every hand and nobility. Her face is aimed at my liver and her waist, like a camel like me, on a calf. I saw the sadness in the immortal mole. If the sun saw it, I could not see it. I said: I ask forgiveness of the beneficent of the slippery, loving little patience and skin She said, "I have been fascinated by us for her preaching. As soon as I see the dead of love, she has left me in a hurry." She said, "Do you think how did the deer do with the lion? Wafee believed in love Shimeh O cold that you said on my liver and recovered I asked me I said to her from the spear knocked hand in hand and rained pearls of narcissus and drew a response and a bite on the jujube cold and sang in the mouth of the case, saying no hatred and no longer and extended, and God sad sister to lose A brother grieved him and no mother on the boy was rushed and came to God in a hurry, when I saw it I could not skin and was forced The luster of Mrashvha she went back the soul after death in my body are Ihsdona on my death Fuwa regret even death does not Oakhlu of envy