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kattanib

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In the golden realm where desert winds play,
Under the fierce gaze of the sun's fierce ray,
There strode a figure, a vision to behold,
Cristiano Ronaldo, in Al Nasser's blue and gold.

His silhouette against the horizon, lean and tall,
A magnetism that held the stadium in thrall.
Eyes that sparkled, deeper than the night,
A gaze so intense, it set the pitch alight.

The grace of a panther, the strength of the dunes,
He moved with a rhythm, that made hearts swoon.
Every stride, every touch, a seductive dance,
Leaving fans and foes alike, caught in a trance.

The sweat on his brow, like morning's first dew,
Glistening under lights, a mesmerizing view.
His chiseled jaw, his sculpted frame,
Made hearts flutter, whenever they called his name.

In the heart of Arabia, where tales are spun,
Ronaldo's allure was second to none.
For beyond his skill, his goals, his fame,
Was a charisma, that no words could tame.

A captain, a leader, in Al Nasser's crest,
But also a vision, simply the best.
In the annals of football, where legends are tracked,
Ronaldo stood out, irresistibly attractive, a fact.
 
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