I am very passionate about the object of my heart's affection
I try to get the message over that I am enamoured of your flame
But often I get slapped down for going my passion's direction
For having loved I have nevertheless been made ashamed
Thinking, ruminating on the ******* form of Beauty
At least that's how you have always appeared to me
You and your sermon are my spirit's entreaty
That beseeches, implores my mind mesmerisingly
The perfect opportunity of Love I often destroy
For ignorance of how to give perfect care
In my moods I fall and fall, like Troy
Attesting to my spirit's shame and the poverty there
    But still I'd love to love and love again
    With one who can teach me how to make amends