Cinnamon

In you I found the land of India, In you I perceived another sweet youthful aroma Of whom India is and is to be tomorrow in eyes. You are a coin of gold to that land! Fertile, fruitful and fresher than the dusk. When I see you, nothing looks like your gracious body, When I behold you, a woman becomes my second thought! Dynamics of the spirited trees in the forest of trees. Here I lay under your tender embrace, Here I dream under your umbrella to love again. Clarity of a blooming perfection, bold to stand alone! You’re mild, gentle kid sister to an African Rose I enchant of your graceful leafs at home Of your seasoned nobility bearing children. Even the lonely cloud knows of your beauty, When men seek for easement; They lay under your armies proudly. If firm, I can stand today avoiding Yesterday’s pitfall; let the traces be found in your fruits. © John Vincent Artistry For: Film Republic Pictures.