Love and curse
Upon the yellow soul of love, I quietly wept
Beneath the hand of fate,
wreathed with fancies without a spirit;
and I knew all and all about it.
Yet nothing questioned about it
Bathing reposefully in gentle torture,
Not a man nor an intelligible creature,
Captivated in this vessel like a body in nature
In four legged form that resembled bed
Long ago ,in this world, I never slept ,
Yet I reckoned death sometimes descended,
No doubt to conquer my chest,
And those times was better if not the best,
There I relaxed as emptiness permit.
Withdrawn to what I heard,
As my soul voiced what I felt,
Those are cursed know love not,
Yet those love not, they know not they are cursed,
And those, who love, are doomed to pain,
Those in pain of love know not they are blessed,
Though you know love not, I always murmured,
’cause my love is worthy to be remembered,
your love to me ceremoniously in wilted heart I kept.