My lute and I,
Whether with petition or abhorrer,
Her opinion was asked to had,
Her undistinguished abode was asked, but she hold it.
And she might be assimilated now,
Assimilated to a great owner,
But to her honourable gentlewoman, herself was an abhorrer, an abhorrer could not reason well.
But at the time of my lute,
That my lute and I sleeping,
Her abhorrer has now moved,
Moved to me and my lute.
And gone for the day,
When my lute and I sing to her.
For another hearer is listening,
Listening to me and my lute,
And she hospitalized us to her abode.
Hello, I am Jodekss Gloatkenf --my penname. I am a professional writer, ghostwriter, researcher, editor, blogger, podcaster, artist, thinker and lightworker. I believe in creativeness, diversity and uniqueness --my definition of art.
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