Reluctant, shy breezes are screeching everywhere
Around the shrubs of full green and damp
The ants look boiled about the ground
And not many miles on this carriage to pull.
Yet the breeze and sun no longer me spare,
Nor the ants at my feet,
Or the golden burners that dim on low
Or the length from here to there:
For I have not enough friendliness
That in these Haciendas I have lacked
Of nothing more than dark hair'd timid joy
And the hate for violent Margeret escalated
Or repulsive Mernah's emerald robe
And sinful Mossle De-throwned
Written by Arlana Panduleni Shikongo
Inspired by Keat's Poetical works: Sonnet IX
Take a trip inside my mind as I share timely insights, musings, and perspectives on life, love, and everything in between.
20 April 2012
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