Sonnet 12

Your happy moments force the side of fate
When battles are for you a senseless cry,
For what they've nursed in front of common gate;
Now take a chance to mourn and then to sigh.
Psychotic hopes we shared during that day -
A voiceless cell with darkness in your glance;
I took some mud with me for them to pay
The priceless sign of gathering in trance.
Within those roots I laid from dream to dream
As if my home were nothing but a sleep -
From wounds I hear a never-ending scream
That burst a song to whom you'll stay in heap
Like ghastly roses in the land of shape
Which go with man as gently as a rape.