Sonnet XIV

"What bothers you my love, distraught, you speak

No song this day, but dreary tales and more,

Of winters, gloomy, heart so drowning deep,

But groping, seeking, tumbling to the shore.

So tell me, shall I bring for you the moon,
Or pluck'em, shooting stars, or fetch you light
Of fireflies dazzling, clouding them, or strewn
With scent of love, the gale that raids this night."

"I feel no warmth, nor love does flow through rhymes

You speak, of promise, hope and dreams surreal,

When truth is all I ask of you, sometimes,

And not those starry nights, but that what's real.

A reassuring smile, a gentle kiss,
Sometimes is all I yearn, sometimes is bliss."