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Sonnet No. 2
The Night and Day don't change too much. They stay
The same, and—always changing, always in
A state of fleeting fancy, lead astray—
The one still chases th' other—th' other then
Would let herself be caught in her embrace.
She is the Night. She is the Day. She lives
A life which never fades, and, in her face,
Is seen an emptiness—a tale which gives
Away just sound and fury, and betrays
The lack of them. The Day and Night live with
Each other, always happy. No malaise
Could keep them, just themselves. They know the myth
That keeps them sane is nothing but a lie.
No thing is left, except for them to die.
© Emilia Perseo Samuel Gaspar
#sonnet
The same, and—always changing, always in
A state of fleeting fancy, lead astray—
The one still chases th' other—th' other then
Would let herself be caught in her embrace.
She is the Night. She is the Day. She lives
A life which never fades, and, in her face,
Is seen an emptiness—a tale which gives
Away just sound and fury, and betrays
The lack of them. The Day and Night live with
Each other, always happy. No malaise
Could keep them, just themselves. They know the myth
That keeps them sane is nothing but a lie.
No thing is left, except for them to die.
© Emilia Perseo Samuel Gaspar
#sonnet
