Love comes alive from the lips of prose, makes love drink water from its lips.

In love with making her body a bed for the soul, she carries her prose pillows on her chest.

When your body becomes a bed, our soul burns with love, I swear, O nesrin

Our prose soul longs to be one with the body.let your love wash our souls my angel

I went to bed with the name of so much love, my stretch out your heart

I am your hand in the language of jinn, my angel in prose in human language

there is no place between lovers, run to the run to open your arms my angel ,If you fall, get up with love my angel