Presented to...?

I long to talk to my beloved,
Sadly, she did not talk to me.

Connect me if you are to a phone close,
My self, to her phone enticed.

And who feels my worry and agony,
Painful, she did not yet call.

And this I gained from fate,
Tormented me with tortures and distanced.

Tender, fresh as a green branch,
When blown by country breezes, bends.

If wounded, for her a doctor to heal,
Yet from her wound my wounds ravage me.

Tranquil eyes as deep as seas,
The cheeks as if lightning enflamed.

Joined brows as if a bow,
And her cheeks so often healed me.

From the gazelles, take the features of the young,
And from a herd of blesbok, take what is fascinating.

Her nature, a nature so refined,
Talking, or encountering me.