All English Sonnets
The agony of the wishes of my heart,
The perils of my over much desire,
Home shadowed simplicity of my art,
And held my clueless, hapless life entries.
At ransom, countless intricate manners,
Are needed and inexplicable knots,
Are tied along the strings at the slots,
And only through this continued endeavors.
The instruments are stung, on which linger,
The restless eye and the itching finger,
By forsaking desires and the wishes,
By intricate Endeavour and commune,
By purest love and through the selfless kisses,
Are thought of, and created- simple tunes.