SONNET 166
By JH Sayyar
When I think to love I am a traitor,
Hate breeds’ hate; a natural law,
I betray you; betray your Creator,
I think O Poor Love your love, raw.
My Muse teaches who makes you so,
Her false smiles warn the sunken eyes,
My failure written on the white brow,
When I know love, my false love dies.
O My Poor Love, give what you had,
Just hate you've, I give you in return,
Heavenly pleasures you call me mad,
I do not transfer you dear what I learn.
For mighty hearts; a trap your smile,
Your cunning cheeks gently beguile.
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