Oh, Isolde It be I who in flight of fancy be on to ye thine Tristan
ever adorable female of myth so coveted as to fashion envy
toward me in all about seeking thine graces so charming
yet thee placeth on me so lowly in thine dusk
all that which so many crave
dear Isolde, this I declare on to thee
above all for thou beeth the lady
to whom my life leedeth destiny toward
for in thine lack it be but end
for start can not be to go on
in world deprived of thee
Ay, ye beeth truly Isolde to thine Tristan,
oh, Celtic beauty of crimson mane
as to symbol thine passions so fierce
when released upon this world chaotic
in unworthiness of ye woman of untainted value
Oh, mine Isolde if ours were to be not ever
emotion of ye I carry forth on till death
that sees not more when eternity beckons
ours for all time
Mine Isolde, thou be lustful pain
on thine adorer of potion in ye
addiction strong but remedy
by not ye lady of all desires
I bare with sorrow of delight
My name is Gianni Truvianni, I am an author who writes with the simple aim of sharing his ideas, thoughts and so much more of what I am with those who are interested in perhaps reading something new. I also am the author of the book entitled “New York’s Opera Society” which is now available on Amazon.
www.amazon.com/Yorks-Opera-Society-Gianni-Truvianni/dp/0595500161/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1226658466&sr=8-2
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