Sonnet I
The mustard fields are blooming once again,
One can see from afar, like bygone times,
Those camels in the caravan: well trained
Are they, and like a chain of thought in rhymes,
Follow a course to reach prescribed goals
Which are not theirs, and soon they will be made
To leave again, and when their empty bowels
Revolt, they find respite in grassy glades;
But little has been changed, they have to leave,
Huddled by necessity and lies
They sacrifice their pleasures and believe
In common good; and those who would defy
And rather suckle life’s and wisdom’s breast,
Ones who love most, become the loneliest?
