Is this the fault of heaven
or destiny mine;
that i never shone(for my mistress)
like a sun of every clime.
but you smiled and phrased:
'you are a sun- of darkened sky
and will sink
in your 'beauteous bride,
and whatever betides,
you are always be my pride.'
Since than
I'v been waiting
'to be shone like a bright star;
around which your love revolves
and my flares surround you...
Now
i am fading fast
and soon to be 'a memory lost.'
O gracious maid!
come and cease
this eternal damnation,
and your PROCRASTINATION.
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
sometimes its really worth to procrastinate things...