Problems too weighty, solutions too short,
the sheets to the wind, the wind is too high.
Alas!  Is it come to this airy sky?
What hope have we at this late, last resort?
Whose hot night mean you by that sharp retort?
Kind words could prevail with me by and by,
if true deeds and acts to them you did tie.
Or would true colours, your kind words extort?
Subservience costs, intensity builds,
restitution earns more than it merits.
Infidelity is home to cowards;
traitors hang their hats in its two-faced guilds.
Light and languid, the lithesome whore gavottes,
honey-lipped with guile she leads you forwards.