Sonnet: Iv

Thou love beauty and fair things untamed,
Thou mock ugliness a void less disdain.
But Beauty can't be glorified nor flamed,
Without ugliness, as joy without pains,
And even truth if thus no falsehood stains.
For 'tis the decree by heaven's ordain.

If thou praise thine pleasure scolding sorrows,
Thou have owned, why adore that sweetest ode,
Which a bard pens with the deepest pain, flows
And wanders within his soul? E’en sweet roses
Have thorns, as night with silver moon apposes,
For beauty ‘nd horrid live the same abode.

If I’m wrong in this, let my words emend,
And all laments that I have ever penned.

by Mirza Beg

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.