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Sonnet 13

From Petrarch.
 
OH! place me where the burning noon
Forbids the wither'd flow'r to blow;
Or place me in the frigid zone,
On mountains of eternal snow:
 
Let me pursue the steps of Fame,
Or Poverty's more tranquil road;
Let youth's warm tide my veins inflame,
Or sixty winters chill my blood:
 
Tho' my fond soul to Heav'n were flown,
Or tho' on Earth 'tis doom'd to pine,
Prisoner or free—obscure or known,
My heart, oh Laura! still is thine.
 
Whate'er my destiny may be,
That faithful heart, still burns for thee!
 
Teşekkürler!
2 teşekkür aldı
Wolfgang RiedmannWolfgang Riedmann tarafından Pzr, 03/10/2021 - 18:33 tarihinde eklendi

 

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