Читать книгу #Sonnets - Lucien Young - Страница 18

My heart aflame, I swipe with finger deft

The myriad nymphs who dance before my sight,

And, for each one I banish to the left,

My horniness doth hurl a thousand right.

I think myself a Roman emperor

Whose twitching thumb commands the fatal strike.

Shall this new girl feel my contempt for her

Or else be humbled by my super like?

Then I despair, perceiving what the catch is:

My profile pic these girls approveth not

And soon enough my few enticing matches

Reveal themselves a false and thieving bot.

Then do I pity those I leftward nudged,

For as one judges, so must one be judged.