Sonnet # 3
It`s summertime; my heart indeed is sad.
by Luis Estable
And though the birds are singing their sweet song,
My heart aches much with pain that is so bad,
And my young mind feels a heat that is quite wrong.
I think it`s winter, thoughts of it I mean
That have me nervous for my single soul.
I`ll not have loving kisses, kisses clean,
Or the warm body of a female`s role.
So, you can see that every a good man
Not always fair whatever`s meant by life.
And to buy pearls or gold, what poor man can?
These facts, my world, are sharper than a knife.
Here I shed tears for things that are not mellow,
And, then, my thoughts to gentle my sorrow.