What I’d like to give you, dear, is an ounce of my perfume,
It’s not Joy Baccarat, nor Les Royales, with soft soapy spume;
Nor Roja Haute Luxe, Amorem Rose, Maison Francis fume,
Nor Nenufar, Cleopatra, great queen-scent xanthous bloom…!

My perfume is the one I smelt first in you when I met,
My first love, for the first moment in that red-rose thicket,
Where you stood like a fairy and angel of born beauty,
With an amalgamated scent of flower and fruity…!

This scent had intoxicated me like pure alcohol,
And has been churning, like nectar, in my mind, overall;
I’m lost today losing your presence; swiftly bring me home,
To smell my perfume and feel my feelings, Oh, halt your roam…!

Your aroma has mixed with my blood and sweetly savors,
Come! Be with me! Let’s cherish love’s fresh flourishing flavors;
Let tinges of first love touch our, lost lovely lonely heart,
And fill us with the thrust of the first impulse of our start…

Can you smell me today, a macho once, now soft-wood-turned?
Yours, indeed, even now feminine tender chillness- churned!
Ignoring the inner yearning of hope we’d parted ways,
And dared to forget the long invigorating love-rays!

Come back! Bring me home in you! Let us refresh our lost love!
Accepting our faithlessness, let’s beg blessings from above!
Sensing still sanitized sense of the sensitive perfume,
Let’s revive like a sunflower in the morning! And bloom!