Con Amore: Adieu o Ballerina
O muse, how lovely dost thy moves can be,
Belike a swan in peaceful lake thou dance
Would mine love sway in touch thy melody?
Alas, me not thy cob with him thee prance.
'Til when will I keep on enduring this?
'Tis mayhap, dandelion fill'd with thorns
In lieu of soft bright yellow flow'rs like fleece,
Yet I receive a painful prick; need warns.
With thy graceful an' dreamy dance with him,
An' in your eyes whence bliss as vivid sky
Your romance flow alike sonata stream
Whereas my heart delug'd with bloody dye.
'Til then, this mighty audience better shun;
Afore I'll drown by envy shall begone.