Old Feeling

The sound of rustling silk stilled,
with dust the marble coutyard filled.
No footfalls on the floor,
Fallen leaves in the heaps block up the door

For he, my pride,
my lovely one is lost
And I am left,
in hopeless anguish tossed.

The empty houses are cold,
still,
without sound.

I long for the most gentleman one,
how can I attain my desire?

Pain bursts my heart..
there is no peace.
i'm still waitin' here..
with my most unfavourable 'angel' soul


-jay