Fickle

O my sad heart is wearing thin
And my head is hot and heavy,
From where could such a state begin
But the woe thy absence did levy?
Alas! this dreadful solitude
That forces me to gasp and sigh
Lost to this woeful writhing mood
From which I pray I shall not die.
Star, be kind as I know thou art;
Descend from thy adonic throne!
Do not in haste from me depart
With Layla to leave me alone.
I know thou shalt return like dawn
For thou art kind and love lives on.

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This entry was posted in Sonnets.

One comment on “Fickle

  1. Irving says:

    O wandering dervish, how sweet and sad and lovely a poem :) Majnun ever in search of Laila.

    Ya Haqq!

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