The pining lover, feeds the tepid flame of love,
Burning in his heart, with sighs and moans;
The pleasing smart, he so loves, and abhors,
Both tortures him, and yet placates alone.
The fumes of sighs, beseech the cascading tears,
Fuelling his heart’s yearning, not to disclose his ache;
Weary with sorrow, and longing, that isn’t akin to pain;
As the brume, resembles the rain; so does, the lover’s heartache.