Monday, October 31, 2016

JH Sayyar's sonnets

191
All cocks in spring season in jovial mood,
Make gleeful notes forgetting old worry,
Why in lovely weather with me you rude,
All my evil days in the love grave I burry.
Your thinking changes with the season,
My loving heart be-weeps lone on the bed,
I believe in fate yea! There is a reason.
My love willful wills I see them all dead.
What is luck? Nothing but a written will,
Unchanged may be changed like a truant,
As the tramps taught by kind motherly bill,
If heavenly muse in leisure you grant.

My muse flies with the wings of Muse,
Flying powers into soul your kisses infuse.