63. Last night a bird sat on the bough,

SONNET 63

By JH Sayyar
Last night a bird sat on the bough,
Of my heart I asked for the reason,
Listening to me, wish-tears flow!
From the eyes I saw in my vision.
I offer to stay in my heart forever,
Smiling anon and flaps the wings:
Flew over me with its golden hair,
A fairy song in its voice he sings.
When I awoke it was my poor heart,
Turns into ashes heated with desire,
Gives its heart to my enemy cart
Leaves me knowingly in the mire

I fell in troubles taught me a lesson
Love women’s eyes, not impression