This harsh and new
Misadventure has defeated my
Heart and every sweet
Thought I had about
Love. Defeat is already
Very much a part
Of my life. That
Sweet and gentle woman
Is gone and my
Soul is destroyed; yes,
I don’t even see
The place where she
Was: there is no
Strength left in me
To comprehend in my
Mind the flower of
Her worth. All gentle
Thought has died because,
I say, I’ll never
See her, again, this
Pitiless and harsh torment,
That increases my burning,
Bitterness: I can’t find
Anyone to take pity
Me, lord, have
Mercy on me as
The painful wheel of
Fortune turns. I’m full
Of every pain and
In a fearful place
Where my painful heart
And spirit, because fortune
Doesn’t care about me,
Are dead and I’m
So sorry; and
False hope, in time,
Has died and robbed
Me of delightful hours.
My words are defeated
And fearful, as they
Go about sighing
And ashamed and
The name of my
Woman I call: I,
Also, remain in heavy,
Adversity and what foresight
Sees is the color
Of death below me.
Robert Petrecca 