My dearest Victoria,
How sweet your name sounds in my ears,
As it caresses the very soul of my heart,
And how my heart beats
When I hear your name running
Through my ears,
Like the sound of music,
And when you sing,
Your voice sounds like
Music to my own ears,
And I can barely stand to miss it.
You are beautiful in your own way,
For you are outstanding,
And you are humanitarian,
And you are giving,
And you help all those that are around you,
For you are Victoria,
The soul of the arts of the Victorian era,
For Dickens would have considered you a seraph,
And Hugo would have considered you an angel,
Dumas thought of a nymph,
Tolstoy, the symbol of purity,
Dostoevsky, the beauty of the world,
Mark Twain, the sign of intellect
And wit,
Virginia Woolf, the sign of intelligence,
Kate Chopin, the sign of awakening,
Jane Austen, the symbol of confidence,
George Eliot, the symbol of the flame,
The leadership in the night,
And Oscar Wilde, a symbol of temptation.
Victoria, you are talented in so many ways,
For you make my heart beat,
And there is nothing better than to see
You smile as you perform,
For you know the true value of art,
And how it affects our world,
For you know how it inspires,
And how it gives,
And the artist uses it to make
What he or she makes of it.
For you are an artist, as well,
And you know full well,
What you can do with it.
You are great, and you know it,
For no one will stop you at all.
I wish you the best of luck in life,
And may God bless you all of your days.
Sincerely,
The Anonymous Writer
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem