Читать книгу #Sonnets - Lucien Young - Страница 20

Full oft have I thine algorithm cursed

And scorned thy slick and faithless interface,

Or else thy users’ tawdry tics rehearsed,

Thou base usurper of romance’s place!

But now my heart thy kind forgiveness begs,

For, though I stand by ev’ry censure made,

And rue each squandered swipe through dating’s dregs,

Each sparkless match, each compliment I paid,

On thee I found her: she who lights my life,

Who from love’s endless game would set me free.

And, though thou mayst have yielded years of strife,

Thou, pocket Pandarus, broughtst her to me

At whose sweet touch all former shames collapse.

Thus, Tinder, I proclaim thee king of apps!