To love and be a poet,-- ‘tis a curse!--
To look at her, and what is more to see!
Incapable to write a single verse,--
Oh February, what you’ve done to me!
You have achieved perfection on this night.
Among the poets born in your embrace,
Victor Hugo and Pasternak have tried
But both fell short of capturing her grace.
Portray her beauty?-- I dare not attempt
To capture what I dream when lacking sleep.
And thus I stand, in silence, in contempt--
"Oh, February -- to get ink and weep...”
I wrote this for the birthday of a close friend (which happens to be on Valentine's Day), who was also my first love.
The last line is a direct quote from a poem by Pasternak.
[This message has been edited by Master (edited 02-09-2000).]