tell me sweet little lies,
            that until you laid your eyes on me
            your eyes never saw anything as tender and dewy as me,
            that the light I brought into your life
            stopped every dark cloud right in its tracks,

but through day and night, talk to me with the same coyness

tell me sweet little lies,
           that I am the perfect combination of virility and sensitivity
           that any woman can ever ask for,
           that I am the prince in shining armor
           that every damsel-in-distress is waiting to be rescued by,

but through thick and thin, call me by the same name

tell me sweet little lies,
           that fresh breath or not
           my fervor kiss is the panacea for all your complaints,
           that our paths were as destined to cross
           just as in the rainy season two overflowing rivers converge with an
           irresistible force of attraction,

but whatever the circumstance, neither anoint me a saint nor condemn me a brute

tell me sweet little lies,
            that you will endure the agony of meeting ninety-nine prospective
            bride grooms
            as long as the hundredth groom is going to be me,
            that you will suffer each of my departures
            for with it comes the sweet anxious pain of my arrival,

but expensive or cheap, embrace all my gifts with the same affection

tell me sweet little lies,
           that leaving you for even a second is permitted
            as long as I can stop the time when I leave and start it again when I am back,
            that you never sensed your breath as warm or cold
            but the moment my breath enveloped you, you felt a blanket of cool breeze
            squeeze you in its warm hug,

but through success or failure, treat me with the same passion and respect

tell me sweet little lies,
            that the whole world may call you beautiful
            but nothing makes you swell with pride than the sugary words I whisper to
           you – ‘you look gorgeous tonight’,
            that you always looked at days and nights with the same tenor
            but now with me around, days seem far too long and nights seem way too

but whatever be the juncture, give me a longing look but never the parting one

And let me tell you my secret little prayer,
on the long train journey that we have undertaken,
if one of us has to get down at a station early,
I wish and hope it is always me.