sexta-feira, 26 de dezembro de 2014

Alas the day

One day you'll rue the day you mocked me so.
I, for one, give thanks for a bitter lesson.
Henceforth must we our several paths go.
Solitude will be my only profession.
Fool I was to trust those black eyes, or mine;
To construe ev'ry gesture to my pleasing;
To seek a poison'd bloom and hurt in brier.
But my suffering shall not be unceasing.
My naïveté will give way to callousness;
Human affairs I shall forswear for art;
And live isolated in my own counciousness.
Such another endeavor I'll not start;
Until perchance one true to speech and act,
Constant to a feeling, might come to fact.

segunda-feira, 15 de dezembro de 2014

Rough Seas

The rough seas of sailing and finding love
Are thus vex'd with ill drifts and foulest weather
Sailor and lover turn to gods above
Still they are tossed and tossed such as a feather
Shall safe harbour be ever hit upon?
How many shipwrecks might one soul survive?
Is there any lifeline whereto hang on?
Can one swim to the shore and one day thrive?
No more than Neptune's and Venus' playthings
We lose vessel, goods and our petty labours
Yet we long and crave for what Fortune brings
Knowing full well she decides whom she favours
Is it silly to live in this hope, so?
Guess not, all men that live, I hope, live so.