Hello Classics Words Blog F. Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member. Continue reading Stephanie Cynthia Jun An Ode to Nikolaas. Ah, Nikolaas, my love for him is not the same, as my love for thee; My love for thee was once, and may still be, sweeter, purer, more elegant, and free; But still, how unfortunate!
And but tonight-shall Amsterdam still be cold? But to cold temper thou shalt remain unheeded; thou shalt be tough, and bold; Sadly I am definite about having another nightmare, meanwhile, here; For thy voice and longings shall be too far; with presumptions and poems, I cannot hear.
Sleep, my loveliest, sleep; for unlike thine, none other temper, or love-is in some ways too fragrant, and sweet; All of which shall neither tempt me to flirt, nor hasten me to meet; My love for thee is still undoubted, defined, and unhesitant; Like all t'is summer weather around; 'tis both imminent, and pleasant.
My love for thee, back then, was but one youthful-and reeking of temporal vitality; But now 'tis different-for fathom I now-the distinction between sincerity, and affectation. Ah, Nikolaas, how once we strolled about roads, and nearby spheres-in living vivacity; With sweets amongst our tongues-wouldst we attend every song, and laugh at an excessively pretentious lamentation.
/revision/latest?cb=20190904080428 "Sluts in Utrecht")
Again-we wouldst stop in front of every farm of lavender; As though they wanted to know, and couldst but contribute their breaths, and make our love better. We were both in blooming youth, and still prevailed on-to keep our chastity; And t'is we obeyed gladly, and by each ot'er, days passed and every second went even lovelier.
