Leandro Meneghin


Sonnet Out Of Mourning

Thou criest out in a fi' o' spleen for me
Our clear mystifying phenomena
Screech at thee whilst the fault lay not with thee
O'ercome hurdles; What does it matter

Get thy heroes slew though I've yit killed mine
For caring for thy pompous self I fled
Well/unfounded Fear has decided my fate
It fled; sun's shone, blue moons' hidden ‘n' still hide

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