All through an idle settlement abode I go,
And unearth her, nor in any room.
The pristine glaze candle and lamps I light;
Went beneath to loss before a tempest of gloom.
Solid-spraddled lies the junk about
A descent sad place to write her dear names
Or sketch her identity the form she looked,
That myth legendary night she cames
The wretch home crumbles part by part bit,
Each day, I heard ominous-foreboding thud
That reveals different rent out there while ago.
For gales to pierce and storms to flood.
My luscious orchards groan and weaken with fruit bore.
Where legend wise the busy bees go round.
I let them corrode upon the trembling bough;
And ate what drops upon the dusty ground.
The weary cows went drudging; seems pressure
In a torment woes with roated teats.
My puny hands slacked , my blood chilly
I marveled that my weary heart still beats.
I have no devise to lament or to merry
No meanest longing bent to solicit or curse.
Fading of affection who utter death is worse.
Alvin thiumai
And unearth her, nor in any room.
The pristine glaze candle and lamps I light;
Went beneath to loss before a tempest of gloom.
Solid-spraddled lies the junk about
A descent sad place to write her dear names
Or sketch her identity the form she looked,
That myth legendary night she cames
The wretch home crumbles part by part bit,
Each day, I heard ominous-foreboding thud
That reveals different rent out there while ago.
For gales to pierce and storms to flood.
My luscious orchards groan and weaken with fruit bore.
Where legend wise the busy bees go round.
I let them corrode upon the trembling bough;
And ate what drops upon the dusty ground.
The weary cows went drudging; seems pressure
In a torment woes with roated teats.
My puny hands slacked , my blood chilly
I marveled that my weary heart still beats.
I have no devise to lament or to merry
No meanest longing bent to solicit or curse.
Fading of affection who utter death is worse.
Alvin thiumai
Well done,
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