 A mere of tears comes loose upon
A maid and a dame’s cheeks
Irrigated by a sorrowful fountain
Painting the image of a duet of pain.
Life’s malice driving
The wiser into the insane.
With any luck,
All birds drone alluring hymns.
Love has no shameful stain.
It falls in soul profluent
With twangs of rain,
Passing its best
In the river of veins.
Being same
In a thane’s blood and a swain’s,
A fervent love can be hained.
In the peace fane,
The duct of soul would be so plain.
In veracity,
Love became a big deal of trade,
No more than just a claim state.
It has not become naturally innate.
Only my heart,
For love can translate,
As my soul’s waves,
With the dawn’s light softly vibrate.
In love’s contest
My heart has been chosen
The first and best.
That is why
My gentle song is crammed
With human respect.
Never, never, never,
The lion’s eyes have wept!
So, my pain has become a duet.
As usual and maybe soon,
The frames of essence became
As an impassive Goth.
My elation would be quite mute
So, my soul’s melody won’t lilt
A tempting tune.
Oh, my God!
Kindly save and bless
My vibrant heart.
My cute sense
Always terminates
At a bitter halt
In the rain of my eyes.
My soul’s scream
Diving to melt my heart’s salt
To gain a deep quietude,
To grow with my innocent root
As my survival cure,
To be more pure
And whiter than a wisp of rime,
Trying to avoid
Life’s filth and grime.
Our planet is ill
With a cruel time.
Life’s canto,
Written by a doleful rhyme.
Feeling my gone days as dolts,
My wit and reverie chained
By ghost’s bolts.
But in my soul’s ballroom,
My pretty vibes still dance waltz. |
