Sinuous strings Present, aureate gets it,
When those agleam rays humbly hit.
A curve, be it an arch, laid for sure,
Under a fertile field, without exposure
To what comes under.
Vision-lover, the gleam magnet,
Itself a treasure, to a thought pregnant.
Wheat field burst into sight, sole border.
Greeting the holy cliff, which is under.
Oh, those caves, that fresh airflow.
Land where lubricate wine.
Land where macarize mine.
A total sculpture, holy mountain,
Borne back from Present, in the action.
A land feigning Atlas, a land of marks,
Macarized with cries of Schatz.
Be followed by the elevation,
Pluralize, if lust a distinction.
They possess what it takes,
Trigger the blood, simply flows.
Five-sided pressure, enough it is not.