(To those who suffer unrequited love)
Like Jacinto, this is not yet my poem
It is my mild venom
At an unsteady mind, a thing of shame.
The world is deaf; the world is deaf to my grief
Yet unperturbed you act to burning desire.
I hoped for murmurs to make music
I waited for the breeze to sing a song
Your firm impressions linger in memory
(The cleric's cap, the bulging eyes and
The smile that could halt the Trojan War
The endearing disposition) passes between lips
An unwanted synthesis of honey and vinegar*
But I am Me, no rain from bays of eyes
The canines will cease to make noise and
Then there will be a calm storm and
Also Somnus'** failure revealed again
I cannot forget your refined grace!
*A sour-tasting condiment and preservative
** In Roman mythology, the god of sleep; may also be used to represent forgetfulness.
