carmine jolt
The Sun is overhead and at his peak,
Clearing that heavenly landscape to blue,
Perhaps those Cumuli above there knew
Their shade can make his raging rays not weak.
Below, he beams upon the Men his lights
To give them warmth to live for this present:
A warmth against the coldest past, well-meant
To be the torch for future-seeking sights.
How blazing, then, these winds feel on my skin,
That brings upon me drought that dries my pores;
For every drop of sweat my body stores,
Like a desert well, has gone dry and thin.
Yet, this self-abyss is all I can see,
For Sun knows me not for him to behold;
And there I knew thus, that our Sun is cold,
For Men delights his rays, yet not with me.
fresh wadi