All English Sonnets
A plate my trust in promptings of my soul,
To savour ecstasy, slake my thrust,
Exaggeration, wily hyperbole,
Are stuff that find no favour in my trust.
With tender tones of passion, languid style,
Intangible convictions, meek and tender,
Unknowingly composed with a smile,
I sing the songs of life sleek and slender.
I do not sing to roaring multitude,
I long for no approval or applause,
And those who do not like my attitude,
Should know Viyogi, that he never was.
In favour of the music shrill or loud,
For silence is powerful and proud.