Sonnet 18 (x-rated )

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Abgeschickt von Ulrike am 27 Mai, 2003 um 18:52:02:

Shall I compare you to a troubadour,
an errant minstrel, merry vagabond,
who changes tunes with changing scenes on tour;
high-flying, you will jet your seeds beyond

horizons to besiege the ladies´ caverns,
undutifully, you don´t mince your words,
your goal to strike their strings at courts and taverns
to make them feast with you and loosen girds.

Comparisons cannot fulfil desire,
can just recall, reverberate your lines,
can only pacify the knights when they´re in dire
straits and hence deplore such strict confines.

But thy confines I do combat with glee
by means of content which gives life to thee


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