Sonnet Ii By Taka Zabala
How sweet, could shame not be?
Beneath thy fragrant rose, O thy lover’s heart closed…
O, thy pustule thou, splendor of thy nascent forename!
O, in what saccharine thus my love encloses?
That idiom in what, thy story tell of thy existence,
denigrate on thy lover, in which by name I call Juliet
Cannot I, dispraise, but in a variety of larcenies rave about; Juliet, thy name consecrates an under the weather testimony.
Exquisiteness’ mask unravels every imperfection,
And all things chan