Son Nguyen- The Bore

Son Nguyen - The Bore

Thy inattentive mind is jesting with thy eyes.
Perplexed and agitated, I am getting bored.
Distracted by thy bore, I am conceited.
The toy thou adorest, she is seductively intrigued.

Perhaps the jesters in there, hopping around and laughing
Are more enthralling than my mere tedious soul.
The black attires that we both are wearing
Breathes its misery onto us like a witch spell.

The flowers on the porch lie as lifeless as ashes.
I kneel under the sun beam, but why the wretchedness?
Thy amused spirit versus my corrupted soul.
Why the blame? Dost thou understand now?

Perhaps my trouble channelleth itself into thy body.
Thy curiosity arouseth thy intensity, no woe.
Lean closer, thou art succumbed to my nuisance.
I am no siren, but retain thy distance.

What dost thou perceive? A pitiful witch as I?
Dreadfully mourn for my sorrow in thy eyes.
Lest thy gallantry dictate thy mind
To bring amusement to my bind.

Perceive my misery, thou declarest.
As if I am the embarrassment.
Like a bewitchment, I am enthralled.
The smile of delight, my woe shall fall.