Fire flames

The spring of music pierces my heart,
     A pleasant pain encroaches my thought,
My still thoughts ooze blood of terrible pain,
     An inborn dudder filled my mind.

Like Hamlet I am confused and irrosolute,
     The flowers with ephemeral life haunt,
Immaturity, the imbecility of a truant,
     Age ripes and decays.  Hopes enliven.

Exorable.  Dreams are rife but momentary
     Flowers of gloom fade fragrant decoration,
The gloom of gladness, glut in pain,
     Prefer to see sorrow, not to bear it.

So are arts, poems, stories,  and all
     Jocos enjoy tragedies, appreciate tears.
Melody rings with the tune of pathos
    Orpheus sings a song of sadness strain

A pregnant cloud of agony drips,
    Pours then to cool a turbulent heart,
Wishes withered, the soul lies in fire flames,
     The fire of pessimism is the ultimate,  the goal.