What wasted words escape your minion mouth
As insults to my ears, you tell of deeds
My loved one does; that he does not; I vouch.
Yet, your base mind, believing I will heed,
Perceiving wrongly that you have my ear,
Seeks to create of me a lover's wraith
By crafting tales to supplant doubt and fear,
Where ‘til this moment there was naught but faith.
No! These tales describe, without confusion,
Your bitterness, your envy and your shame;
Not my blindness or my love's transgressions,
Who doubtful ever pranced to a quatrain.
No mortal fable unwraps love's embrace,
Forged in spheres of music from soul's grace.
HJB 2012
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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