Sonnet 069
Laijon Liu 20160423
April’s brooding season breeds a young writer at age 23
The changing stage, sudden warm or cold
Mild sunray weave through spring drizzle
Thoughts like payers, like verses bloom
Those parts of you that the world’s eye does view
Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend
All tongues, the voice of souls, give you that due
Uttering bare truth, even so as your foes command
They look into the beauty of your mind
And that in guess they measure your acts
Then, churls, their thoughts, altho their eyes were kind
To your fair name they rate the rank of weeds.
How can a flower blossom out of ditch?
Your soil is this, so you be common grow.
