Sonnet: Ii

If all the joy and happiness, we've known
And seen, have fate of transitoriness,
And love that beauty adores, often shown
The deepest hate, while beauty is denied.
Or verses so sweet and praise that belied
Upon things, that never worth the greatness,

Become fallacy, as a Spring's leave rots
In summer's days and falls to be decay'd.
Not all that we think are the wisest thoughts,
Nor every sorrow we weep's to be end.
When truth be untruth, as the truest friend
Be or songs end, when the last note is play'd.

Shall all my words and thoughts be then befit,
Those alone by pain and wonder I've writ?

by Mirza Beg

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